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Source-Readers in American History — No. IV 



THE ROMANCE OF THE 
CIVIL WAR 



•V)^° 




THE UNION SOLDIER. 



Source-Readers in American History — No. 4 

THE ROMANCE OF THE 
CIVIL WAR 



SELECTED AND ANNOTATED BY 

ALBERT BUSHNELL HART 

Of Harvard University 

WITH THE COLLABORATION OF 

ELIZABETH STEVENS 



With Many Illustrations 



NEW YORK 
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. 

1903 

All rights reserved 



H3^ 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

JUN 1 1903 

(\ Copyright tntiy 

CLASS ^ XXc No 

COPY B. 



Copyright, 1903, 
By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up, electrotyped, and published May, 1903. 



Norivood Press 

J. S. Gushing & Co. — Berivick & Smith Co. 

Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 



Preface 



This fourth volume of Source Readers attempts to put 
before teachers and children the actualities of the Civil War 
period. It contains something of the spirit of North and South 
at the beginning of the war, and much about the Ufe of the 
soldier and the citizen while it was going on, with some of the 
battle smoke and dust. If the Civil War was worth fighting, if 
it brought out heroic character, and abounded in gallant deeds, 
it is worth while for children of the present day to know some 
of the men and women of that time. No period in American 
history so abounds in lively narrative and in the principles and 
the achievement which have made the nation great. In this 
book the fathers are speaking to their children. 



ALBERT BUSHxNELL HART. 



Cambridge, 
May I, 1903. 



Contents 



PAGE 

Introduction for Teachers ix 

PART I 
On the Plantation i 

PART II 
The Underground Railroad and the Contraband . . • 5" 

PART III 
In and Out of the Army 117 

PART IV 
Boy Soldiers and Sailors .177 

PART V 
In Camp and on the March 219 

PART VI 
Under Fire 283 

PART VII 
On Deck 342 

PART VIII 

Women and the War . 381 

vii 



INTRODUCTION FOR TEACHERS 

The problem of the use of sources in the grammar 
schools has been stated in the introductions to the pre- 
ceding volumes of this series, and need not be here re- 
peated. The book has been prepared in the belief that 
the child of the grammar grades is as capable of finding 
pleasure in the presence of the realities of history, and 
stands in as much need of the intellectual alertness that 
comes from acquaintance with unbiassed statements of 
fact, as the more mature student. 

The higher age of the pupils who will use this book 
and the nature of the subject, have made possible some 
differences between this volume and those that precede 
it. In the first place, fewer changes have been made in 
the selections ; the authors are more nearly contemporary, 
and their style needs little or no change to make it com- 
prehensible, so that omissions have been made chiefly for 
the sake of brevity ; further, children of say twelve years 
old can easily look up for themselves such words and 
phrases as they do not at once understand. 

In the second place, this volume deals with a field that 
is at once extensive and compact. The first and the third 
volumes dealt with two periods of development, — of dis- 
covery and colonization, and of readjustment and growth 
after the Revolution. Like Volume II, on the War for 
Independence, Volume IV has the definite subject of the 
Civil War; but the field is broader, and there is more 
need of making clear the experiences of both sides to the 
controversy. 



Introductii 



ion 



The third difference is the stress laid on personality. 
A close personal relation may very possibly be found to 
exist between the authors and the readers, for many of 
the pieces were written by slave-holders, slaves, poor 
whites, abolitionists, journalists, novelists, poets, teachers, 
generals, privates, troopers, midshipmen, rear-admirals, 
Southern women. Northern nurses, surgeons, and chap- 
lains, — some of whom are alive now and perhaps known 
to the children who use the book. Personality stands out 
clearly also, because many of the authors are men and 
women whose names and faces are familiar in every home 
in America, names such as Grant, Lee, Sherman, Farragut, 
Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Louisa May Alcott. Again, 
many of the selections are direct character sketches, and 
reveal an intimate knowledge of such men as John Brown 
(No. 17), John Morgan (No. 33), General Lee (No. 48), and 
John Ericsson (No. 90) ; while others, indirectly, by sug- 
gestion, portray such well-known people as " Jeb " Stuart 
(Nos. 35, 61) and Grant (Nos. 44, 47, 66). 

The book makes no attempt to give any continued nar- 
rative of the war; events are not mentioned exactly in 
their sequence ; many important battles are not described ; 
no stress is laid on the political conditions at work outside 
of the army. The Reader tells merely the romance, sad 
or joyful as the case may be, that hung over the war, and 
by detached incidents, some descriptive, some narrative, 
endeavors to bring out the personality of the men and 
women who took part in the struggle. 

The plan of the Reader is to furnish both descriptive 
and narrative pieces arranged as follows : Part I, On the 
Plantation, treats of slave life before the war ; it shows 
Southern economic conditions, some good, some bad, 
some with much to be said on both sides. Part II, The 
Underground Railroad and the Contraband, describes 



Introduction xi 

scenes that actually took place in the attempt to free the 
negro, and pictures the ultimate result of the effort. Part 
III, In and Out of the Army, describes enlistment, en- 
campment, and transportation. Part IV, Boy Soldiers 
and Sailors, shows what responsibilities were given to 
children forty years ago, and the conditions under which 
our fathers spent their boyhood. Parts V and VI, In 
Camp and on the March, and Under Fire, bring the 
reader into the actual presence of war about as the aver- 
age soldier saw it. Part VII, On Deck, recalls the impor- 
tance of the Union fleet during the entire war. Part VIII, 
Women and the War, tells of the devotion and sacrifices 
of women, both North and South, and gives an idea of the 
conditions endured by non-combatants on both sides. 

By putting together pieces which are perhaps not con- 
secutively printed, the teacher may make out many special 
topics and subdivisions. On slavery, for example, the 
Southern view is given by the cheerful picture in Happy 
Days on the Plantation (No. i), in the Experience of a 
Governess in a Southern Planter's House (No. 3), and in 
two descriptions by a Southern journalist, A Pompous Old 
Negro, and A Slave Auction (Nos. 10, 11). The Northern 
view is shown in the two selections from " Uncle Tom's 
Cabin " (Nos. 5,6); in a poor white's Opinion of Slavery 
(No. 9), and indirectly in such incidents as that of the 
Quick-witted Negro (No. 20). The slave's own view is 
shown in Charity Bowery's narrative (No. 2), and in the 
scenes of misery and hopelessness described by a news- 
paper correspondent (Nos. 22, 23). 

It is important also to bring out the direct relations of 
the North with the slaves. The workings of the Under- 
ground Railroad are vividly described by a Cincinnati 
operator (No. 12), and show the discomforts and dangers 
that attended these movements. Two of the most notable 



xii httroduction 

escapes, managed by a colored woman, Harriet Tubman, 
are told in No. 14 ; and the rescue of a colored man named 
Jerry (No. 15) shows the height to which popular excite- 
ment rose ; the service of the negroes in the ranks is 
described in No. 86, and the outside help which the 
negroes constantly gave the Yankees in No. 85. 

Although no attempt is made to give a list of battles, it 
must not be forgotten that fighting is the natural end and 
aim of war ; and the teacher may find it expedient to 
group under one topic the dismay of the terrible rout at 
Bull Run (No. 76), the dramatic scene in Hampton Roads, 
when the little Monitor established the supremacy of the 
Union fleet (No. 91), Keenan's spirited charge at Chan- 
cellorsville (No. 81), the awful crisis of Gettysburg, told 
in stately verse (No. 84), and the manoeuvres at Chicka- 
mauga (No. 87). 

The technicalities of naval warfare are brought out in 
several selections, and picture maps might be drawn to 
show the manoeuvres described in such actions as the 
fight between the MoJiitor and the Merrimac (No. 91), 
Chasing a Blockade Runner (No. 92), Sinking the Tccm/iseh 
(No. 93), Running the Batteries on the Mississippi River 
(Nos. 94, 96), the Escape of the Sumter (No. 95), and the 
Sinking of the Albemarle (No. 98). 

The average personal experience of a private might be 
worked out by studying the conditions of his enlistment 
and transportation to the seat of war (Nos. 3CJ, 31), his 
housing and the way in which he spent Jiis spare time 
(No. 58), his food (No. 59), a sudden order to march 
(Nos, 34, 60), the encampment before the battle (No. 71), 
the sudden plunge into the fight (Nos. 74, 80), and the 
care taken of him at the hospital (No. 105). 

Many of the selections will hold the interest of the 
pupils simply as stories to be read in quiet hours. Every 



Introduction xiii 

boy will thrill at the daring and subtlety of the scout in 
Nos. 36 and 37, and will glow with enthusiasm over the 
Cavalry Raid (No. 79) ; while Mrs. Pickard's story of the 
kidnapped children (Nos. 4, 7, 8) will appeal to every child 
who is moved by the misfortunes of mankind. 

The work of women during the war must not be for- 
gotten, and Mrs. Livermore's account of a single day at 
the rooms of the Sanitary Commission (No. 99) will give 
some idea of the amount of organization, skill, patience, 
hard work, and expert aid necessary to maintain a national 
army in the field and to care for the sick and wounded. 
Louisa May Alcott and Clara Barton (Nos. 104, 109) are 
but two of the devoted women who had the strength, 
energy, and courage necessary to care for those who gave 
life and limb for their country. 

The sufferings of the Southern women about whose 
homes the struggle took place are told by Mrs. Eliza 
Ripley (Nos. loi, 107), and no writer has yet surpassed 
the unknown Southern Lady who describes the woes un- 
speakable of the besieged at Vicksburg (Nos. 55, 82, 83). 
The work of women for the colored race began after the 
war was over, and some of the difficulties are described 
by a teacher in Nos. 19, 24, 25, and 26. 

A large part of our national poetry has centred about 
the Civil War, and nearly all the poets are represented in 
this volume. The Battle Hymn of the Republic (No. 18)' 
The Cavalry Charge (No. 75), Barbara Frietchie (No. 106), 
and O Captain ! My Captain (No. 88) are poems that 
every American child should know by heart. Keenan's 
Charge (No. 81) and Sheridan's Ride (No. 73) are spir- 
ited, and show the vigor with which our fathers rhymed 
their sentiments. The three war songs given in No. 70 
are everywhere familiar, and may well be sung anew. 

This list of topics is not meant to be exhaustive ; it 



xiv Introduction 

is simply a suggestion of what may be done in the way 
of making the book both profitable and enjoyable. The 
Civil War is too near and too partisan for this generation 
to have any one authoritative opinion about it ; and this 
volume is sent forth with the hope that even pupils of say 
the ninth grade may come to add some of the human 
experiences of our fathers to the narratives of history. 

ELIZABETH STEVENS. 



THE ROMANCE OF THE 
CIVIL WAR 



PART I 
ON THE PLANTATION 

I. Happy Days on the Plantation 

By Susan Dabney Swedes (1840) 

On wedding occasions, the bride always expected The subject 

a good maiiv gifts, besides materials for a cake ; and ^^^"^^ ""^^^ 

^ , r -1 interested 

some of the master s family must be present. The people, north 

mistress's big prayer-book was taken over, and the ^"^ south, 

11 c .^ . irom 1830 to 

marriage service read by one 01 the young masters, j^^^, was Af- 

The slaves would not be satisfied unless the bride rican slavery 

and the cake were duly compUmented. t"n smf °s"*'^" 

At one of the weddings the bridegroom did not No one can 

respond when his time came. " Solomon," said the ""derstand 

' the life of the 

young master, " say thou wilt." " Thou wilt," repeated time or the 

Solomon in his most solemn voice. The marriage course of 

ceremony went on. " Courtenay, wilt thou have this history with- 

man to thy wedded husband to live together after out knowing 

God's holy ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony ? u°e"cond^° 

Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and tions of siav- 

keep him in sickness and in health ; and, forsaking f^ f"'^ 'j^*^, 

^ > ' o treatment of 

all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye slaves — 

both shall live ?" "I does," responded the bride. sometimes 

very cruel 

The nurse who took care of the women when their and more of- 

babies were born received a fee each time. The *en as kind 

mothers themselves looked upon these seasons as sibirwhere 



On the Plantation 



[No. I 



the poverty 
or death of a 
master might 
make it nec- 
essary to 
sell the 
household 
slaves. This 
account was 
written by the 
daughter of a 
living slave- 
holder. Ser- 
vant was the 
word com- 
monly used 
in the South 
instead of 
slave. 



gala times. They were provided with flour, sugar, 
dried fruit, and often meals from the table, and a 
woman to do all their cooking, washing, and house- 
work for a month. Their cabins were clean and 
orderly, their beds gay with bright quilts, and often 
the pillows were snowy enough to tempt any head. 

When we children were allowed to go to see some 
of the servants, they deUghted in setting out a Httle 
feast. If they had nothing else, we were not allowed 
to go without bringing home a new-laid egg or two. 
Once at Christmas, Mammy Harriet gave a "high 
tea " to us children. I was at that time about four- 
teen years of age, the oldest invited. 

Mammy had made a nice cake and hot biscuits 
and tea for the occasion, set out in her choicest cups, 
some of rare old china, with sugar in the sugar-bowl 
that she had inherited from her mother. She gave 
us besides, sweetmeats, nuts, raisins, fruits of several 
kinds — indeed, a delightful tea ; and she stood behind 
us waiting on the table, looking very much pleased, 
her bright bandanna handkerchief towering aloft on 
her head. 

The children delighted in teaching the house-ser- 
vants. One night a twelve-year old school-mistress 
formally invited the whole family, the master, mistress, 
governess, and guests, to hear her pupils recite poetry. 
She had about a dozen of the maids, old and young. 
Mammy Maria among them. One of the guests was 
quite astonished to see his own slave, whom he had 
brought with him to Burleigh, get up and recite a 
piece of poetry that had been learned with pains for 
this occasion. 

Some of the sons taught those of the plantation 
negroes who cared to learn, but very few were willing to 



No. 2] Aunt Charity 



take the trouble to study. Virginius was successful with 
his scholars. Five of them learned to read so well that 
they became preachers. For his salary as teacher he 
got one dozen eggs a month, or occasionally a pullet at 
the end of two months. He taught in the kitchen 
by the light of pine torches. His method of enforc- 
ing discipline on these middle-aged men was truly 
ludicrous. His own tutor was one of the old-fashioned 
sort, and did not spare the rod in the morning ; so at 
night Virginius belabored the backs of his sturdy 
fellows. His beatings were received with shouts of 
laughter, the whole school would be in an uproar, the 
scholars dodging about to escape the young peda- 
gogue's stick, and the cook and other on-lookers 
roaring with laughter. One of his graduates asked 
his advice as to a course of reading, suggesting 
history as the branch that he wished to pursue. 
The youthful teacher promptly advised "Robinson 
Crusoe," and lent his own handsome copy to this 
promising pupil. After reading one hundred pages, 
Joe came to him and said, " Mars Virginius, did you 
say dat book was history.?" Virginius explained as 
well as he could what fiction was, on which Joe said, 
" I bin mistrustin' all 'long dar some o' de things 
what Robinson Crusoe say warn't true." 



2. Aunt Charity and the Speculator 

By Charity Bowery (1844) 

I AM about sixty-five years old, and was born near This is the 
Edenton, North Carohna. My master was very kind narrative of a 
to his slaves : if an overseer whipped them, he was taken down 



On the Plantation 



[No. 2 



from her own 
lips. 



turned away. Master used to whip them himself 
sometimes, with hickory switches as large as my little 
finger. My mother nursed all his children : she was 
reckoned a very good servant ; and our mistress made 
it a point to give one of my mother's children to each 
of her own. I fell to the lot of Elizabeth, her second 
daughter, and it was my business to wait upon her. 




SLAVE QUARTERS. 



Oh, my old mistress was a kind woman. She was the 
same as a mother to poor Charity. If Charity wanted 
to learn to spin, she let her learn ; if Charity wanted 
to learn to knit, she let her learn ; if Charity wanted to 
learn to weave, she let her learn. I had a wedding 
when I was married ; and when my dear good mis- 
tress died, she charged her children never to separate 
me and my husband ; " for," said she, " if ever there 



No. 2] Aunt Charity 5 

was a match made in heaven, it was Charity and her 
husband." My husband was a nice good man; and 
mistress knew we set stores by one another. Her 
children promised they never would separate me from 
my husband and children. Indeed, they used to tell 
me they would never sell me at all ; and I am sure 
they meant what they said. But my young master 
got into trouble. He used to come home and sit 
leaning his head on his hand by the hour, without 
speaking to any body. I saw something was the 
matter ; and I begged him to tell me what made him 
look so worried. He told me he owed seventeen hun- 
dred dollars, that he could not pay ; and he was afraid 
he would have to go to prison. I begged him to sell 
me and my children, rather than to go to jail. I saw 
the tears come into his eyes. " I don't know, Charity," 
said he ; " I'll see what can be done. One thing 
you may feel easy about ; I will never separate 
you from your husband and children, let what will 
come." 

Two or three days after he came to me, and said ; 
" Charity, how should you hke to be sold to Mr. Kin- 
more .'' " I told him I would rather be sold to him 
than to any body else, because my husband belonged 
to him. Mr. Kinmore agreed to buy us ; and so I and 
my children went there to live. He was a kind mas- 
ter ; but as for mistress Kinmore, — she was a divil ! 
Mr. Kinmore died a few years after he bought us ; 
and in his will he left me and my husband free; but 
I never knew anything about it, for years afterward. 
I don't know how they managed it. My poor hus- 
band died, and never knew that he was free. But it's 
all the same now. He's among the ransomed. 

Sixteen children I've had, first and last ; and twelve 



6 On the Plantation [No. 2 

I've nursed for my mistress. From the time my first 
baby was born, I always set my heart upon buying 
freedom for some of my children. I thought it was 
of more consequence to them than to me ; for I was 
old, and used to being a slave. But mistress Kin- 
more wouldn't let me have my children. One after 
another she sold 'em away from me. 

I tried every way I could, to lay up a copper to 
buy my children ; but I found it pretty hard ; for 
mistress kept me at work all the time. It was 
" Charity ! Charity ! Charity ! " from morning till 
night. " Charity, do this," and " Charity, do that." 

I used to do the washings of the family ; and large 
washings they were. The pubUc road ran right by 
my little hut ; and I thought to myself, while I stood 
there at the wash-tub, I might just as well as not, be 
earning something to buy my children. So I set up 
a little oyster-board ; and when anybody came along, 
that wanted a few oysters and a cracker, I left my 
wash-tub and waited upon him. When I got a little 
money laid up, I went to my mistress and tried to 
buy one of my children. She knew how long my 
heart had been set upon it, and how hard I had worked 
for it. But she wouldn't let me have one ! So, I 
went to work again ; and sat up late nights, in hopes 
I could earn enough to tempt her. When I had two 
hundred dollars, I went to her again ; but she thought 
she could find a better market, and she wouldn't let 
me have one. As last, what do you think that woman 
did .'' She sold me and five of my children to the 
speculators ! 

Surely, ma'am, there's always some good comes of 
being kind to folks. While I kept my oyster-board, 
there was a thin, peaked-looking man, used to come 



No. 2] Aunt Charity 



and buy of me. Sometimes he would say, "Aunt Speculator = 

Charity, (he always called me Aunt Charity,) you aciasfmuch 

must fix me up a nice little mess, for I feel poorly despised by 

to-day." I always made something good for him; ^he siave- 

and if he didn't happen to have any change, I always 

trusted him. He hked my messes mighty well. — 

Now, who do you think that should turn out to 

be, but the very speculator that bought me! He 

came to me, and said he, " Aunt Charity, you've been 

very good to me, and fixed me up many a nice little 

mess, when I've been poorly ; and now you shall have 

your freedom for it, and I'll give you your youngest 

child." 

Well, after that I concluded I'd come to the Free 
States. But mistress had one child of mine ; a boy 
about twelve years old. I had always set my heart 
upon buying Richard. He was the image of his 
father ; and my husband was a nice good man ; and 
we set stores by one another. Besides I was always 
uneasy in my mind about Richard. He was a spirity 
lad ; and I knew it was very hard for him to be a 
slave. Many a time, I have said to him, " Richard, 
let what will happen, never lift your hand against 
your master." 

But I knew it would always be hard work for him 
to be a slave. I carried all my money to my mis- 
tress, and told her I had more due to me ; and if all 
of it wasn't enough to buy my poor boy, I'd work 
hard and send her all my earnings till she said I had 
paid enough. She knew she could trust me. She 
knew Charity always kept her word. But she was a 
hard-hearted woman. She wouldn't let me have my 
boy. With a heavy heart, I went to work to earn 
more, in hopes I might one day be able to buy him. 



8 On the Plantation [no. 2 

To be sure, I didn't get much more time, than I did 
when I was a slave ; for mistress was always calling 
upon me ; and I didn't like to disoblige her. I wanted 
to keep the right side of her, in hopes she'd let me 
have my boy. One day she sent me of an errand. 
I had to wait some time. When I come back, mis- 
tress was counting a heap of bills in her lap. She 
was a rich woman, — she rolled in gold. My little 
girl stood behind her chair and as mistress counted 
the money — ten dollars, — twenty dollars, — fifty 
dollars, — I saw that she kept crying. I thought may 
be mistress had struck her. But when I see the tears 
keep rolling down her cheeks all the time, I went up 
to her, and whispered, " What's the matter } " She 
pointed to mistress's lap and said, " Broder's money! 
Broder's money!" Oh, then I understood it all! I 
said to mistress Kinmore, " Have you sold my boy } " 
Without looking up from counting her money she 
drawled out, "Yes, Charity ; and I got a great price 
for him! " 

Oh, my heart was too full ! She had sent me away 
of an errand, because she didn't want to be troubled 
with our cries. I hadn't any chance to see my poor 
boy. I shall never see him again in this world. My 
heart felt as if it was under a great load of lead. I 
couldn't speak my feelings. I never spoke them to 
her, from that day to this. As I went out of the room, 
I lifted up my hands, and all I could say was, " Mis- 
tress, how could you do it .-• " 

Here I have taken in washing ; and my daughter 
is smart at her needle ; and we get a very comfortable 
living. 



No. 3] 



A Souther?i Hi 



ome 



3. A Southern Planter's House 

By Emily Burke (1845) 

The house which I promised in my last letter to ^''ss Burke 

describe stood upon four posts about five feet from ^^gove^ness 

the ground, allowing a free circulation of air beneath, in a weii-to- 

as well as forming a fine covert for the hounds, goats, '^^ ^'^^'^" 



and all the domestic fowls. 



holding 

It was only one story family. 




A SOUTHERN HOME. 

high, though much taller than buildings of the same 
description at the North. It was divided into four 
rooms below, and two in the roof, and was furnished 
with two broad piazzas, one in front of the building, 
which is always the gentleman's sitting room, and 
one on the back of the house, where the ser\'ants 
await their master's orders. Houses are built low on 
account of the high winds, for their foundations are 



I o Ofi the Pla?itatio?i [no. 3 

so frail that otherwise they would easily be thrown 
down in one of the heavy gales. 

The building was slightly covered with boards, 
arranged like clapboards to shed the rain. This was 
the entire thickness of the walls ; there was no ceil- 
ing, lathing, or plastering within. The floors were 
all single and laid in so unworkmanlike manner that 
I could often see the ground beneath, when the car- 
pets were not on the floor ; and they are always taken 
up in the summer, to make the apartments cooler. 
The roof was covered with long shingles nailed to the 
timbers, to save the expense of boards beneath, with 
the ends of one tier just lapping upon the next, and 
the work was so shabby that not only the wind, 
but the light and rain often found free access into the 
upper rooms, through ten thousand holes among the 
shingles. Two chimneys ornamented the outside of 
the house, one upon each end, built of turfs, sticks, 
blocks of wood, and occasionally a brick, plastered 
over with clay. The windows were furnished with 
panes of glass, a luxury but few enjoy ; after all, 
glazed windows were used more for ornament than 
comfort, for in the coldest weather they were always 
raised, and in stormy weather the piazzas protected 
the inner rooms. 

The above is as true a description as I can give of 
the singular house to which I was conducted on my 
arrival in the country. My appearance there was 
altogether unexpected by the whole family, and there 
was much inquiry among the negroes and the younger 
members of the family, why I was there, who I 
was, and whence the strange lady had come, who 
had so unexpectedly dropped in among them. From 
the room in which I sat, I could look into all the 



No. 3] A Southern Home 1 1 

other rooms about me, and I was not a little amused 
to see many dark forms with bare feet and noise- 
less steps flitting about from one place to another, 
to get a peep at the new comer, and to hear the 
whisperings on all sides of me, of which I well 
understood I was the subject. The servants would 
come to the windows on the outside, and Uft up one 
corner of the curtain to steal a look at me, others 
would creep softly up the steps of the piazza and 
peep into the door. One old woman, less bashful 
than the others, ventured into the room, dressed in 
a coarse cotton gown, extending a little below the 
knees, with bare feet, neck, and arms, and came 
before me and made a low courtesy, accompanied by 
the formal salutation, " how de Misse ; " she then sat 
down on the floor at a little distance from me, and in 
a very respectful manner entere^i into conversation. 
She was one of the oldest women on the plantation, 
and though one of the field hands, she had free access 
to her master's house, and she possessed such a good 
share of common sense that her master and mistress 
always consulted her on important matters, and she 
was looked up to and reverenced by the whole family 
as a sort of mother. 

All this time I was eagerly watching to see if there 
were any preparations going on preliminary to a 
supper, but as I could discover none, and it was then 
near nine o'clock, I had just summoned all my forti- 
tude to meet my hungry fate with the most becoming 
resignation, when a robust young woman came up 
the steps of the back piazza into the room where I 
was, and brought out two or three large tables, which 
reached nearly from one side of the room to the 
other, and began to lay them for supper. Presently 



1 2 On the Plantation [no. 3 

another young woman came from the same quarter, 
brmging' the eatables. When all these preparations 
were complete, the tea-bell was rung from the piazza. 
To my great surprise, for I had seen only two or three 
white persons, a family of twenty or twenty-five per- 
sons, consisting partly of transient members and 
visitors gathered round the table ; where they all 
came from, was a mystery to me. 

Soon after tea I was conducted to one of the cham- 
bers in the roof, the room I was to occupy while a 
resident in the family. My first impressions concern- 
ing my future comfort were very unfavorable ; yet I 
soon learned that my accommodations for that place 
were unusually good, and when I had a view of the 
surrounding scenery from my windows, it was in one 
of the most delightful situations ; but the darkness of 
evening when I first entered my room shut out from 
my view every object but the rough walls around me, 
and my forebodings could not be thought strange. 
Though the house was of but one story, it was so 
built that I had three windows in my chamber, all 
closed with heavy board shutters. The floor was 
smooth and white, and the walls ceiled to the 
windows, the remainder being rough boards. Over- 
head there was nothing to be seen but the unfinished 
timbers and shingles warped into queer shapes. My 
bed had very high posts, and was covered with a 
spread so small that it gave the bed the appearance 
of standing on stilts. 

When I was nicely tucked in beneath the quilts 
and coverlets and had extinguished my light, I was 
utterly thrown into the horrors, to find no close warm 
shelter for my head ; being raised in a land where 
every one is taught to be afraid of the least crevice 



No. 4] The Kidnapper 1 3 

that will admit the cold air, I could not shut my eyes 
to sleep for perfect terror at those thousands of holes 
in the roof, through which the light of the moon was 
staring in upon me ; they seemed to me, through the 
greater part of that night, to be so many cold and 
freezing eyes trying to look me out of countenance. 
In the morning when I threw open my blinds, and 
took a view of the surrounding scenery, I began to 
feel much more reconciled to my situation. At the 
south-east the ever-rolling Atlantic stretched itself 
out as far as the eye could reach, and where the sky 
and water seemed to meet, now and then a sloop 
would lose itself to the sight, or a little white speck 
would appear which would grow larger and larger till 
a ship under full sail would ride majestically over 
the mighty waves. On all other sides of the plan- 
tation the dark green forest of the long leafed pines 
completely hemmed us in, separating us from all 
other plantations and leaving us a little world by 
ourselves. 



4. The Kidnapper 

By Mrs. Kate Pickard (1848) 

Late in the afternoon of a pleasant summer day, The capture 
two Httle boys were playing before the door of their ^"^ ^^'^ ^ 
mother's cottage. They were apparently about six commonly 
or eight years old, and though their faces wore a mailed kid- 
dusky hue, their hearts were gay, and their laugh contrary to '^^ 
rang out clear and free. Their dress was coarse, law and to 
and in no wise restrained the motions of their agile 
limbs, for it consisted merely of a cotton shirt, reach- holders. 



the principles 
of most slave- 



1 4 On the Plant at io?i [No. 4 

ing no lower than the knee. How they ran races 
down the road, and turned summersets on the green 
grass ! How their eyes danced with merriment, and 
their white teeth gUstened in the pleasant light ! 

But as the day wore on they grew weary, and with 
childhood's first impulse, sought their mother. She 
was not in the house. All there was still and lonely. 
In one corner stood her bed, covered with a clean 
blanket, and the baby's cradle was empty by its side. 
Grandmother's bed, in another corner of the room, 
was made up nicely, and every article of the simple 
furniture was in its accustomed place. Where could 
they all have gone } 

" I reckon," said Levin, " mammy's gone to church. 
The preachin' must be mighty long! O! I's so 
hongry ! I's gwine to meetin' to see if she's 
thar." 

The " church " stood in the woods, about a mile off. 
It was an old white building that had formerly been 
occupied by a family, who now lived in a large brick 
house close by. The boys had often been at the 
church with their father, who kept the key of the 
building, and opened it for worship on Sundays, and 
prayer-meeting nights. 

"You better not go thar, I reckon," replied Peter, 
the younger of the two boys, " Mammy'll whip you 
well if you goes to foller her to meetin', and all 
about." 

" Mammy ! O Mammy ! " 

Thus they called their mother, and cried because 
she did not answer, till their eyes were swollen, and 
their pleasant play forgotten. 

Soon the sound of wheels diverted them for a mo- 
ment from their childish grief, and looking up the 



No. 4j The Kidnapper 1 5 

road, they saw a handsome gig approaching. Its 
only occupant was a tall dark man, with black and 
glossy hair, which fell heavily below his white hat. 
He looked earnestly at the little boys as he ap- 
proached, and marking their evident distress, he 
checked his horse, and kindly asked the cause of 
their sorrow. 

" Oh ! Mammy's done gone off, and there's nobody 
to give us our supper, and we're so hongry." 

" Where is your mother .? " 

"Don't know, sir," replied Levin, "but I reckon 
she's gone to church." 

"Well, don't you want to ride.? Jump up here 
with me, and I'll take you to your mother. I'm just 
going to church. Come ! quick ! What ! no clothes 
but a shirt.'' Go in and get a blanket. It will be 
night soon, and you will be cold." 

Away they both ran for a blanket. Levin seized 
one from his mother's bed, and in his haste pushed 
the door against his brother, who was robbing his 
grandmother's couch of its covering. The blanket 
was large, and little Peter, crying all the while, was 
repeatedly tripped by its falling under his feet while 
he was running to the gig. 

The stranger lifted them up, and placing them 
between his feet, covered them carefully with the 
blankets, that they might not be cold. He spoke 
kindly to them, meanwhile, still assuring them that 
he would soon take them to their mother. Away they 
went very swiftly, rejoicing in their childish hearts to 
think how their mother would wonder when she should 
see them coming. 

After riding for some time, — how long they could 
not guess — they suddenly upset in the water with a 



1 6 On the Plantation [no. 4 

great splash. The strange man had, in his haste, 
driven too near the bank of the river, and the slight 
vehicle had thus been overturned. He soon rescued 
the children from the water. They were much 
frightened, but nothing was injured by the accident, 
and in a few minutes they were once more covered 
with the blankets, and flying along the river bank 
faster even than before. 

When the gig stopped again, the sun was just set- 
ting. They were at the water side, and before them 
lay many boats, and vessels of different kinds. They 
had never seen anything like these before, but they 
had short time to gratify their childish curiosity ; for 
they were hurried on board a boat, which left the 
shore immediately 

With the assurance that they should now find their 
mother, they trusted implicitly in their new-made 
friend ; who strengthened their confidence in himself 
by gentle words and timely gifts. Cakes of marvel- 
lous sweetness were ever ready for them, if they grew 
impatient of the length of the journey ; and their 
childish hearts could know no distrust of one whose 
words and acts were kind. 

How long they were on the boat they did not know ; 
nor by what other means they travelled could they 
afterwards remember, until they reached Versailles, 
Kentucky. Here their self-constituted guardian, 
whom they now heard addressed as Kincaid, placed 
them in a wagon with a colored woman and her 
child, and conveyed them to Lexington. This was 
the first town they had ever seen, and as they were 
conducted up Main street, they were filled with 
wonder and admiration. 

Kincaid took them to a plain brick house where 



No. 4] The Kidnapper 1 7 

dwelt one John Fisher, a mason by trade, and pro- 
prietor of a large brick yard. 

After some conversation between the gentlemen, 
which of course the children did not understand, they 
were taken out to the kitchen, and presented to Aunt 
Betty, the cook. 

"There, my boys," said Kincaid, "there is your 
mother — we've found her at last." 

" No! no ! " they shrieked, " that's not our mother ! 
O, please, sir! take us back ! " With tears and cries 
they clung to him who had abused their guileless 
trust, and begged him not to leave them there. 

This scene was soon ended by John Fisher himself, 
who, with a hearty blow on each cheek, bade them 
" hush ! " " You belong to me now, you little rascals, 
and ril have no more of this. There's Aunt Betty, 
she's your mammy now ; and if you behave your- 
selves, she'll be good to you." 

Kincaid soon departed, and they never saw him 
again. They learned, however, from a white appren- 
tice, who lived in the house, that he received from 
Mr. Fisher one hundred and fifty-five dollars for 
Levin, and one hundred and fifty for Peter. 

For the first few weeks the children talked con- 
stantly of going back to their mother — except when 
their master was near. They soon learned that they 
must not mention the subject in his presence. He 
was, in the main, a kind, indulgent man — but were 
they not his money t Why should he allow them to 
prate about being stolen, when he had bought them, 
and paid a right good price .-* 

"Father," said John Fisher, junior, "isn't Phila- 
delphia in a free State .-• " 

"Certainly — it is in Pennsylvania." 



1 8 On the Pla?itatio?i [no. 4 

" Well, then, I reckon those two boys you bought 
were stolen, for they lived with* their mother near the 
Delaware river ; and Aunt Betty says that is at Phila- 
delphia. It was too bad, father, for that man to steal 
them and sell them here, where they can never hear 
from their mother! " . • 

" Pooh, boy ! don't talk like a fool ! Most likely 
they were sold to Kincaid, and he told them he would 
take them to their mother, in order to get them away 
without any fuss. And even if he did steal them — - 
so were all the negroes stolen at first. I bought these 
boys, and paid for them, and I'll stop their talk about 
being free, or I'll break their black necks. A pretty 
tale that, to go about the country — just to spoil the 
sale if I should happen to wish to get rid of them ! 
Free, indeed ! And what is a free nigger } They're 
better off here than if they were free, growing up in 
idleness, and with nobody to take care of them." 

Before night the young offenders were thoroughly 
kicked and beaten, and received the assurance that 
they should be killed outright if they dared to tell 
such a tale again. So they grew cautious ; and spoke 
those sweet memories of home and mother only in 
whispers to each other, or to some fellow-slave who 
knew how to sympathize with their sorrows. 



5. Topsy's Arrival 

Bv Harriet Beecher Stowe (1852) 

This is an ex- One morning, while Miss Ophelia was busy in 
tract fr^ some of her domestic cares, St. Clare's voice was 

Uncle Tom s 

Cabin 2ino\Q\ heard, calhng her at the foot of the stairs. 



No. 5] Topsy^s Arrival 



" Come down here, cousin ; I've something to show which in 

you," many ways 

■I gives a good 

"What is it?" said Miss Opheha, coming down, picture of 
with her sewing in her hand. siavejy, 

" I've made a purchase for your department, — see ten by a 
here," said St. Clare ; and, with the word, he pulled Northern 
along a little negro girl, about eight or nine years 
of age. 

She was one of the blackest of her race ; and her 
round, shining eyes, glittering as glass beads, moved 
with quick and restless glances over everything in 
the room. Her mouth, half open with astonishment 
at the wonders of the new Mas'r's parlor, displayed 
a white and brilliant set of teeth. Her woolly hair 
was braided in sundry little tails, which stuck out in 
every direction. The expression of her face was an 
odd mixture of shrewdness and cunning, over which 
was oddly drawn, like a kind of veil, an expression 
of the most doleful gravity and solemnity. She was 
dressed in a single filthy, ragged garment, made of 
bagging ; and stood with her hands demurely folded 
before her. Altogether, there was something odd 
and gobhn-like about her appearance, — something, 
as Miss Ophelia afterwards said, " so heathenish," as 
to inspire that good lady with utter dismay ; and, 
turning to St. Clare, she said, — 

" Augustine, what in the world have you brought 
that thing here for .-* " 

" For you to educate, to be sure, and train in the 
way she should go. I thought she was rather a 
funny specimen in the Jim Crow line. Here, Topsy," 
he added, giving a whistle, as a man would to call 
the attention of a dog, " give us a song, now, and 
show us some of your dancing." 



2 o On the Plantation [no. 5 

The black, glassy eyes glittered with a kind of 
wicked drollery, and the thing struck up, in a clear 
shrill voice, an odd negro melody, to which she kept 
time with her hands and feet, spinning round, clap- 
ping her hands, knocking her knees together, in a 
wild, fantastic sort of time, and producing in her 
throat all those odd gutteral sounds which distinguish 
the native music of her race ; and finally, turning a 
somerset or two, and giving a prolonged closing note, 
as odd and unearthly as that of a steam-whistle, she 
came suddenly down on the carpet, and stood with 
her hands folded, and a most sanctimonious expres- 
sion of meekness and solemnity over her face, only 
broken by the cunning glances which she shot 
askance from the corners of her eyes. 

Miss Ophelia stood silent, perfectly paralyzed with 
amazement. 

St. Clare, like a mischievous fellow as he was, ap- 
peared to enjoy her astonishment ; and, addressing 
the child again, said, — 

" Topsy, this is your new mistress. I'm going to 
give you up to her ; see, now, that you behave your- 
self." 

"Yes, Mas'r," said Topsy, with sanctimonious 
gravity, her wicked eyes twinkling as she spoke. 

" You're going to be good, Topsy, you understand," 
said St. Clare. 

" Oh, yes, Mas'r," said Topsy, with another twinkle, 
her hands still devoutly folded. 

" Now, Augustine, what upon earth is this for } " 
said Miss Ophelia. " Your house is so full of these 
little plagues, now, that a body can't set down their 
foot without treading on 'em. I get up in the morn- 
ing, and find one asleep behind the door, and see one 



No. 5] Topsy s Arrival 2 i 

black head poking out from under the table, one lying 
on the door-mat, — and they are mopping and mow- 
ing and grinning between all the raihngs, and tum- 
bling over the kitchen floor ! What on earth did you 
want to bring this one for ? " 

" For you to educate, — didn't I tell you ? You're 
always preaching about educating. I thought I would 
make you a present of a fresh-caught specimen, and 
let you try your hand on her, and bring her up in the 
way she should go." 

"Well, I'll do what I can," said Miss Ophelia; and 
she approached her new subject very much as a person 
might be supposed to approach a black spider, sup- 
posing them to have benevolent designs toward it. 

" She's dreadfully dirty, and half naked," she said. 

" Well, take her downstairs, and make some of 
them clean and clothe her up." 

Miss Ophelia carried her to the kitchen regions. 

When arrayed at last in a suit of decent and whole 
clothing, her hair cropped short to her head. Miss 
Ophelia, with some satisfaction, said she looked more 
Christian-like than she did, and in her own mind 
began to mature some plans for her instruction. 

Sitting down before her, she began to question her. 

" How old are you, Topsy .'* " 

" Dunno, Missis," said the image, with a grin that 
showed all her teeth. 

" Don't know how old you are 1 Didn't anybody 
ever tell you .? Who was your mother } " 

"Never had none!" said the child, with another 
grin, that looked so goblin-Hke, that, if Miss Ophelia 
had been at all nervous, she might have fancied that 
she had got hold of some sooty gnome from the land 
of Diablerie ; but Miss Ophelia was not nervous, but 



2 2 On the PIiuitiitio?i [No. 5 

plain and l)usinc.ss-likc, and she said, with some 
sternness, - 

" \'oii nuistii't answer me in that way, ehild ; I'm 
not plaxiiii; with you. Tell me where you were born, 
and who your father and mother were." 

" Never was born," reiterated the creature, more 
emphatically ; " never had no lather nor mother, 
nor nothin'. I was raised by a speculator, with. 
lots of others. Old Aunt Sue used to take car' 
on us." 

" How lonu; have you lived with your master and 
mistress ? " 

" Dunno, Missis." 

" Is it a year, or more, or less ? " 

" Dunno, Missis." 

" Have you ever lieanl anything about God, 
Topsy .? " 

The child looked bewildered, but grinned as usual. 

" Do you know who made you .'' " 

" Nobody, as I knows on," said the child, with a 
short laugh. 

The idea appeared to amuse her considerably ; for 
her eyes twinkled, and she added, — 

"I spect I grow'd. Don't think nobody never 
made me." 

" Do you know how to sew 1 " said Miss Ophelia, 
who thought she would turn her inquiries to some- 
thing more tangible. 

" No, Missis." 

"What can you do.? — what did you do for your 
master and mistress .? " 

" Fetch water, and wash dishes, and rub knives, 
and wait on folks." 

" Were they good to you } " 



No. 6] Topsy's Education 23 

" Spect they was," said the child, scanning Miss 
Ophelia cunningly. 

Miss Ophelia rose from this encouraging colloquy ; 
St, Clare was leaning over the back of her chair. 

•' You find virgin soil there, cousin ; put in your 
own ideas, — you won't find many to pull up." 



6. Topsy's Education 

By Harrie'i Beecher Stowe (1852; 

Miss Ophelia's ideas of education, like all her 
other ideas, were very set and definite, and of the 
kind that prevailed in New England a century ago, 
and which are .still preserved in some very retired 
and unsophisticated parts, where there are no rail- 
roads. As nearly as could be expressed, they could 
be compri.sed in very few words : to teach them to 
mind when they were spoken to ; to teach them the 
catechism, sewing, and reading ; and to whip them if 
they told lies. And though, of course, in the flood 
of light that is now poured on education, these are 
left far away in the rear, yet it is an undisputed fact 
that our grandmothers raised some tolerably fair men 
and women under this regime, as many of us can 
remember and testify. At all events, Miss Ophelia 
knew of nothing else to do ; and, therefore, applied 
her mind to her heathen with the best diligence she 
could command. 

The child was announced and considered in the 
family as Miss Ophelia's girl ; and, as she was looked 
upon with no gracious eye in the kitchen, Miss 



2 4 On the Plantation [no. e 

Ophelia resolved to confine her sphere of operation 
and instruction chiefly to her own chamber. With a 
self-sacrifice which some of our readers will appre- 
ciate, she resolved, instead of comfortably making 
her own bed, sweeping and dusting her own chamber, 
— which she had hitherto done, in utter scorn of all 
offers of help from the chambermaid of the establish- 
ment, — to condemn herself to the martyrdom of 
instructing Topsy to perform these operations. 

Miss Ophelia began with Topsy by taking her into 
her chamber, the first morning, and solemnly com- 
mencing a course of instruction in the art and mys- 
tery of bed-making. 

Behold, then, Topsy, washed and shorn of all the 
little braided tails wherein her heart had delighted, 
arrayed in a clean gown, with well-starched apron, 
standing reverently before Miss Ophelia, with an 
expression of solemnity well befitting a funeral. 

" Now, Topsy, I'm going to show you just how my 
bed is to be made. I am very particular about my 
bed. You must learn exactly how to do it." 

" Yes, ma'am," says Topsy, with a deep sigh, and 
a face of woeful earnestness. 

" Now, Topsy, look here ; — this is the hem of the 
sheet, — this is the right side of the sheet, and this is 
the wrong ; — will you remember } " 

" Yes, ma'am," says Topsy, with another sigh. 

"Well, now, the under sheet you must bring over 
the bolster, — so, — and tuck it clear down under the 
mattress nice and smooth, — so, — do you see } " 

"Yes, ma'am," said Topsy, with profound atten- 
tion. 

" But the upper sheet," said Miss Ophelia, " must 
be brought down in this way, and tucked under firm 



No. 6] Topsy s Education 2 5 

and smooth at the foot, — so, — the narrow hem at 
the foot." 

" Yes, ma'am," said Topsy, as before ; but we will 
add, what Miss Ophelia did not see, that, during the 
time when the good lady's back was turned, in the 
zeal of her manipulations, the young disciple had 
contrived to snatch a pair of gloves and a ribbon, 
which she had adroitly slipped into her sleeves, and 
stood with her hands dutifully folded, as before. 

" Now, Topsy, let's see you do this," said Miss 
Ophelia, pulling off the clothes, and seating herself. 

Topsy, with great gravity and adroitness, went 
through the exercise completely to Miss Ophelia's 
satisfaction ; smoothing the sheets, patting out every 
wrinkle, and exhibiting, through the whole process, a 
gravity and seriousness with which her instructress 
was greatly edified. By an unlucky slip, however, a 
fluttering fragment of the ribbon hung out of one of 
her sleeves, just as she was finishing, and caught Miss 
Ophelia's attention. Instantly she pounced upon it. 
" What's this 'i You naughty, wicked child, — you've 
been stealing this ! " 

The ribbon was pulled out of Topsy's own sleeve, 
yet was she not in the least disconcerted ; she only 
looked at it with an air of the most surprised and 
unconscious innocence. 

" Laws ! why, that ar's Miss Feely's ribbon, an't it .-" 
Hov/ could it 'a' got caught in my sleeve .■' " 

" Topsy, you naughty girl, don't you tell me a lie, 
— you stole that ribbon ! " 

"Missis, I declar for 't, I didn't; — never seed it 
till dis yer blessed minnit." 

"Topsy," said Miss Ophelia, "don't you know it's 
wicked to tell Ues .'' " 



2 6 On the Plantation [No. e 

" I never tells no lies, Miss Feely," said Topsy, 
with virtuous gravity; "it's jist the truth I've been 
a-tellin' now, and an't nothin' else." 

" Topsy, I shall have to whip you, if you tell lies so." 

" Laws, Missis, if you's to whip all day, couldn't 
say no other way," said Topsy, beginning to blub- 
ber. " I never seed dat ar, — it must 'a' got caught 
in my sleeve. Miss Feely must have left it on the 
bed, and it got caught in the clothes, and so got in 
my sleeve." 

Miss Ophelia was so indignant at the barefaced lie, 
that she caught the child, and shook her. 

" Don't you tell me that again ! " 

The shake brought the gloves on the floor, from 
the other sleeve. 

"There, you!" said Miss OpheHa, "will you tell 
me now, you didn't steal the ribbon } " 

Topsy now confessed to the gloves, but still per- 
sisted in denying the ribbon. 

"Now, Topsy," said Miss Ophelia, "if you'll con- 
fess all about it, I won't whip you this time." 

Thus adjured, Topsy confessed to the ribbon and 
gloves, with woeful protestations of penitence. 

" Well now, tell me. I know you must have taken 
other things since you have been in the house, for I 
let you run about all day yesterday. Now, tell me if 
you took anything, and I shan't whip you." 

" Laws, Missis ! I took Miss Eva's red thing she 
wars on her neck." 

"You did, you naughty child! — Well, what 
else ? " 

" I took Rosa's yer-rings, — them red ones." 

" Go bring them to me this minute, both of 'em." 

" Laws, Missis ! I can't, — they's burnt up ! " 



No. 6] Topsy s Education 2 7 

"Burnt up! — what a story! Go get 'em, or I'll 
whip you." 

Topsy, with loud protestations, and tears, and 
groans, declared that she coitld not. " They's burnt 
up, — they was." 

"What did you burn 'em up for .'^ " said Miss 
Ophelia. 

"'Cause I's wicked, — I is. I's mighty wicked, 
anyhow. I can't help it." 

Just at this moment, Eva came innocently into the 
room, with the identical coral necklace on her neck. 

"Why, Eva, where did you get your necklace.''" 
said Miss Opheha. 

" Get it } Why, I've had it on all day," said Eva. 

" Did you have it on yesterday } " 

" Yes ; and what is funny, aunty, I had it on all 
night. I forgot to take it off when I went to bed." 

Miss Ophelia looked perfectly bewildered ; the 
more so, as Rosa, at that instant, came into the room, 
with a basket of newly ironed linen poised on her 
head, and the coral ear-drops shaking in her ears ! 

" I'm sure I can't tell anything what to do with 
such a child ! " she said, in despair. " What in the 
world did you tell me you took those things for, 
Topsy .'' " 

"Why, Missis said I must 'fess ; and I couldn't 
think of nothin' else to 'fess," said Topsy, rubbing 
her eyes. 

" But, of course, I didn't want you to confess things 
you didn't do," said Miss Ophelia; "that's telHng a 
lie, just as much as the other." 

"Laws, now, is it.''" said Topsy, with an air of 
innocent wonder. 

Eva stood looking at Topsy. 



2 8 0?i the Plantatiofi [no.6 

There stood the two children, representatives of 
the two extremes of society. The fair, high-bred 
child, with her golden head, her deep eyes, her 
spiritual, noble brow, and prince-like movements ; 
and her black, keen, subtle, cringing, yet acute 
neighbor. They stood the representatives of their 
races. The Saxon, born of ages of cultivation, com- 
mand, education, physical and moral eminence ; the 
Afric, born of ages of oppression, submission, igno- 
rance, toil, and vice ! 

Something, perhaps, of such thoughts struggled 
through Eva's mind. But a child's thoughts are 
rather dim, undefined instincts ; and in Eva's noble 
nature many such were yearning and working, for 
which she had no power of utterance. When Miss 
Ophelia expatiated on Topsy's naughty, wicked con- 
duct, the child looked perplexed and sorrowful, but 
said, sweetly, — 

" Poor Topsy, why need you steal .'' You're going 
to be taken good care of, now. I'm sure I'd rather 
give you anything of mine, than have you steal it." 

It was the first word of kindness the child had ever 
heard in her life ; and the sweet tone and manner 
struck strangely on the wild, rude heart, and a sparkle 
of something like a tear shone in the keen, round, 
glittering eye ; but it was followed by the short laugh 
and habitual grin. No ! the ear that has never heard 
anything but abuse is strangely incredulous of any- 
thing so heavenly as kindness ; and Topsy only 
thought Eva's speech something funny and inexpli- 
cable, — she did not believe it. 



No. 7] Buying Peter 2 9 

7. How Friedman bought Peter 

By Mks. Kate Pickard (1848) 

Peter commenced the year with high hopes. His Some of the 
last year's srains had greatly encouraged him, for he ^'^^^/^"'^ 

J ^ ° ■' , ° / most mdus- 

had laid up, besides expending over thirty dollars tnous of the 
for his family, one hundred and five dollars ; which ^^^^^^ 

, . " bought 

made two hundred and ten dollars now ni his their time" 

possession. by paying to 

The hope of being free he had thus far communi- a^fixed^^""'^ 



sum 



buy them- 
selves. 



cated to none but his true-hearted wife ; but now, as each year; if 
he had become satisfied that Mr. Friedman was his ^^^^ ""T^"^ 

save above 

friend, he determined to seek his co-operation in his that sum, 
plan. This resolution was not formed without the *^^y ""'s'^' 

. . lay up 

most careful consideration ; and yet, when he ap- enough to 
proached the counting-room for the purpose of open- 
ing his cherished plans, his heart throbbed painfully, 
and his knees trembled so that he could scarcely 
walk. 

"Mr. Friedman," said he, "I've got something I 
want to tell you, but it's a great secret." 

"Well, Peter " 

" I've been a thinkin', sir, I'd like to buy myself; 
and you've always dealt so fa'r with me, I didn't 
know but you mought buy me, and than give me a 
chance." 

' Friedman's countenance brightened. He had be- 
come much attached to Peter, and had often wished 
in his heart that by some means the faithful fellow 
might be free, but such a plan as this had not occurred 
to him. 

" Can you get the money, Peter .-' " 

" I reckon I could, if you didn't pay too high for 



30 On the Pla?itation [No. ^ 

me. Mars John Henry oughtn't to ask a great price 
for me, no how, when I served the family so long." 

" How much shall I give for you .? " 

" I think, sir, five hundred dollars is as much as 
you ought to pay." 

" Hogun will not sell you for that price," said the 
Jew. "John Pollock offered him six hundred, and 
he laughed at him. Some men in town would give 
eight hundred dollars for you — not because you are 
worth so much, but because they know you." 

" Well, sir, I have served the family for thirty-five 
years. I have earned 'em a heap of money, and have 
been mighty little trouble or expense. They can af- 
ford to sell me for five hundred dollars." 

"Yes: — well, I will speak to Hogun." 

The proposition received, at first, but little favor. 
Peter was an old family servant, and they intended 
to keep him in the family as long as he lived. They 
did not wish to sell him. 

" Well," said Friedman, " I would Hke to buy him. 
He has a cough, and if he belonged to me, I would 
try to cure it, but while he is your property, I can do 
nothing for him. I will give you five hundred 
dollars." 

Hogun turned away. He did not want to sell the 
boy ; if he did, that was no price for him. He would 
bring twice that sum. 

After several attempts to purchase him had been 
unsuccessful, Peter determined to try the power of 
his own eloquence. Accordingly, during the last 
week of the year, he went out to the plantation. 

His young mistress had gone with her husband to 
town ; but they soon returned. Peter met them at the 
gate, and " Miss Sarah," after shaking hands with 



No. 7] Buying Peter 3 1 

him, went in ; while the young master remained in 
the yard to inquire after his health. His cough was 
particularly troublesome whenever any of his mas- 
ter's family were near, and now it annoyed him ex- 
ceedingly. " Ugh ! ugh ! Mass'r John Henry, I 
come to see you 'bout Mr. Friedman buy in' me. I 
like to live with him ; and he said he done named 
it to you." 

" Yes, he did ; but he didn't offer any price for 
you — only five hundred dollars." 

" Well, Mass'r John Henry, ain't that thar enough 
for me .'' " 

" No — I can get a thousand dollars for you any day." 

" Ugh ! ugh ! I think you mighty hard to ask such 
a big price for me when I been in your service so long. 
Miss Sarah done got all my arnins ever since I be- 
longed to her great uncle, Mars Nattie Gist. Now 
when I'm a'most fifty years old, ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! I 
think five hundred dollars is enough for me ; and 
'pears like, sir, you oughtent to ask no more." 

" Well, Peter, you know people like to get all they 
can for their property ; and it makes no difference 
to you, any how, whether I sell you for a big price or 
a little one." 

"Yes, sir, it does, Mass'r John, kase if a person 
gives a thousand dollars for me, he 'lows he's gwine 
to work it out of me; birt Mr. Friedman just wants 
me to wait on him about the store ; and he says he'll 
cure my cough, too — ugh ! ugh ! He can't afford to 
pay a big price for me, and then doctor me up." 

"Well, go 'long — I don't want to sell you any 
how ; I'd rather bring you home to wait on your 
Miss Sarah, and to drive the carriage than to sell you 
for any such price." 



3 2 0?i the Plantation [no. 7 

"Yes, sir, if you and Miss Sarah was a livin' by 
yourselves, I'd like that; but I don't never want to 
come back to work on the plantation — ugh ! ugh ! I 
couldn't stand that now. But I belong to you, sir, 
and of course I must do just as you say. What shall 
I do, Mass'r John } " 

" Go back to town, and stay till I come to see about 
you." 

" Good bye, Mass'r John. Ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! " 

Thus he coughed himself out of the yard. All the 
way back to town he walked with a heavy heart. If 
his master would not sell him, all his bright hopes 
would yet be blasted. He had, however, done all in 
his power. He had used every argument that would 
be likely to influence him in whose young hand his 
destiny was held — now he could only wait with 
patience the result. 

It was not long before the young master's aversion 
to sell an old family servant was suddenly removed. 
On the tenth of January an auction was held in town 
of certain goods — the property of his late uncle — 
" Old Jimmy Hogun." Among these " goods," were 
ten choice negroes, two of whom were boys about 
sixteen years old. These boys, young John Henry 
wished to own; and before they were put up, he 
called upon the Jew. 

" Look here, Friedman," said he, "you want Uncle 
Peter, and I want those boys that are for sale to-day. 
If you will go in and bid off one of the boys for me, 
I will let you have Peter in exchange." 

" I will think about it. How high will the boys go ? " 

"I don't know, — they're not worth as much as a 
tried hand like Uncle Peter. Step in, and see how 
the sale goes on." 



No. 7] Buying Peter 3 3 

He left the store, and Mr. Isaac immediately held a 
consultation on the subject with Peter himself. The 
wary slave objected to the plan. " You are not used 
to dealing in slaves," said he, " and you'd best not buy 
the boy. There'll be some game about it. If young 
master wants to buy him, he'll come round, I reckon." 

Soon the young gentleman called again to learn 
the decision of the merchant. Isaac renewed his 
former offer for Peter, but declined to buy the boy. 

" Five hundred 'dollars is no price for such a ser- 
vant ; you may have him for six hundred, though 
he is worth more." 

"No — I will not pay six hundred." 

Away went Hogun to the auction. The two boys 
were soon to be put up. He grew more and more 
and more anxious to buy them, and at last deter- 
mined to make one more effort to bring the mer- 
chant to his terms. 

"Well, Friedman," said he, as he stepped into the 
store, " you may have Peter for five hundred and fifty 
dollars." 

" I will give you five hundred dollars," said he, 
"my brother authorized me to pay that sum." 

" But," argued Hogun, " he is a great favorite in 
town — I have been offered six hundred dollars for 
him." , 

" I say I will give five hundred ; not one dollar 
more." 

The sale was going on — Hogun grew desperate. 
The boy he wanted would not wait for bidders, for 
they were choice fellows. 

" Well," said he, as he walked towards the door, 
"you may have him for five hundred; but it's a 
shame to sell him so." 



34 On the Plantation [No. ^ 

" Then he is mine ! " 

" Yes." 

" For five hundred dollars ! " 

"Yes." 

" Very well, your money will be ready when you 
want it." 

It was night. At his desk sat the merchant, re- 
viewing the business of the day. Cautiously the door 
was opened, and Peter entered the counting-room, 
pausing to listen before he closed the door lest some 
chance visitor might be approaching. All was still. 

" Now, Mr. Friedman," said the slave, while his 
voice trembled, and his whole frame was agitated, 
" I've come to pay you that money ; and I reckon you 
won't cheat me. I've worked mighty hard to get it. 
There's three hundred dollars in this yer bag." 

So saying, he drew the precious treasure from his 
pocket, glancing instinctively towards the corners of 
the room, to be sure that no spy was there concealed. 
He proceeded to untie the bag. It was made of 
leather — about twelve inches long, three inches wide 
at the bottom, and half that width across the top. 

It contained pieces of silver of all sizes, and now 
and then, as they came forth with a melodious chnk- 
ing, a piece of gold glittered in the lamp-light. When 
the bag was about half emptied, Peter paused. It 
would be so easy for him to lose it all, and he had 
known so many slaves defrauded of their hard-earned 
gains, that it seemed impossible for him to trust. 
" But," thought he, " I've knowed Mr. Friedman a 
long time, and I never knowed him to do a mean 
trick. If I can't trust him, the Lord help me ! I 
can't never be free without trustin' some person, any 
how." 



No. 8] Peter Buying Himself 3 5 

He emptied the bag upon the table, and both counted 
it twice. It was right — three hundred dollars. 

Mr. Friedman wrote a receipt for the money, and, 
signing it, handed it to Peter. Poor fellow ! He 
could not read it ; but he believed it genuine, and a 
load was lifted from his heart. After all, he might 
be deceived. He was in this man's power ; but he 
resolved to trust, and to go to work with all his might 
to earn the balance of the sum required to make him 
a freeman. 

The next day Mr. Hogun received the stipulated 
live hundred dollars, and gave a bill of sale, of which 
the following is a copy : 

"' $500. For the consideration of five hundred 
dollars, paid to me this day, I have sold to Joseph 
Friedman a negro man named Peter. I bind myself 
and heirs to defend the title of said negro, Peter, 
to the said Joseph Friedman and his heirs against all 
claims whatever. 

"Given under my hand and seal this 15th January, 
1849. John H. Hogun." 



8. How Peter bought Himself 

By Mrs. Kate Pickard (184S) 

Great sympathy was felt in Tuscumbia for " poor 
Uncle Peter." It was so strange that Hogun would 
sell such a faithful old man. Of course, Friedman 
wanted to make money out of him ; and when he 
became no longer profitable, he would not scruple to 
carry him off and sell him. 

Thus spake gentlemen and ladies ; and soon their 



36 



On the Plantation [no. s 



children caught the tone. " Don't you think," said 
one bright Httle girl to another, as they walked to 
school, " Uncle Peter is sold ! " 

"Sold? I'm so sorry ! • Who's bought him ? Are 
they going to carry him off ? " 

" No — no, not now, Mr. Friedman's bought him. 
Pa says he don't doubt that Mr. Friedman will sell 
him the very first chance he gets to make money out 
of him ; and then, perhaps, he'll be taken off to the 
rice swamps." 

" Oh ! that will be too bad ! Aunt Milly says that 
in the rice swamps they don't care no more for kiUing 
black folks than they do for pigs and chickens. Oh ! 
Fm so sorry for poor Uncle Peter! But what did 
they sell him for.? He didn't run away — nor his 
master didn't die." 

" I don't know what made them sell him, his mas- 
ter wanted the money, I reckon. Oh ! I wish my Pa 
owned him — he wouldn't sell him, I know. Ma says 
she thinks it's a pity for black folks to be sold at all, 
but sometimes it can't be helped." 

" Well, I think it ought to be helped, for they feel 
so bad to be carried away off from everybody that 
loves them. Just think — if Mr. Friedman should 
sell Uncle Peter away off where he never could come 
back — Oh ! wouldn't it be too bad .-* " 

Said a gentleman, " Why didn't you let me know, 
Peter, that your master wanted to sell you.? Fd not 
have let that Friedman get you. He'll sell you again ; 
or, perhaps, work you to death." 

" No, sir, I reckon not," replied Peter ; " Mr. Fried- 
man's always been mighty good to me, and I reckon 
he'll use me fa'r. Leastways, I belong to him now, 
and he'll do just as he thinks best." 



No. 8j Pete?^ Buying Himself 3 7 

Meanwhile the despised and suspected merchant 
was arranging his future relations with the object of 
all this sympathy. " You may work, as you did be- 
fore," said he to Peter, "but you may keep your 
earnings. When you get two hundred dollars more, 
I will give you free papers, and you shall go where 
you like. I do not want your work — get all you can 
for yourself." 

Did the heart of the slave bound at these words .■' 
Did the tears of gratitude sparkle in his eye, and the 
bright beams of hope irradiate his countenance .'' 

Peter continued his usual labors with a light heart. 
He had no hire to pay — his earnings were all his 
own. 

The night after paying his three hundred dollars to 
Mr. Friedman, he went out to make his usual semi- 
monthly visit to his wife. How her heart throbbed 
when he told her all ! Again and again she asked 
him if he were sure Mr. Isaac would be true. The 
children, too, had their hundred questions. Their 
father was very dear to them ; and now he possessed 
new dignity, even in their eyes. "Just think, he 
would soon be free ! " 

In September of this year, Joseph Friedman re- 
turned from Texas ; and soon after, Peter paid him 
one hundred dollars, which he had earned since Jan- 
uary. He seemed delighted at the success of his 
humble friend, and congratulated him on the pros- 
pect of soon becoming free. Only one hundred dol- 
lars was now lacking, and that, if he were prospered, 
he soon could earn ; and then he should be free. 

Patiently he toiled on. His brow was all unruffled, 
and no trace of care was visible on his cheerful face. 
He moved so quietly in his accustomed course, that 



38 



0?t the Pla?itatio?i [no. s 



men forgot their jealousy, and little maidens ceased 
to pity "poor Uncle Peter." 

Late in the evening of the sixteenth of April, 1850, 
Peter sought, once more, the counting-room of Mr. 
Friedman. His hand might well tremble as he raised 
the latch ; for his all was now at stake, and he was 
helpless. He entered. There sat the little man, 
looking at him with his keen black eyes. Timidly 
he drew forth his leather bag, and commenced count- 
ing out the money. 

A footstep approached. Mr. Friedman quietly 
laid a pile of papers over the coin, and the auctioneer 
walked in. 

" What, Peter," said he, " are you paying up } " 

"Yes, sir, Mass'r Joe make me pay him up close." 

" How much do you have to pay .-* " 

" Well, sir, he makes me pay him half dollar a day." 

" That's pretty tight, but it's the best way, after 
all." 

" Yes — that is so — I like to keep all close. Peter 
must pay me promptly." 

When the neighbor's chat was ended, and they 
heard his receding footsteps on the sidewalk, they 
finished counting the money. How beautiful it 
looked to Peter ! that little heap of coin, as he shoved 
it round, and felt that now his fate hung entirely on 
the will of the little man before him. 

Mr. Friedman took up his pen, and wrote a receipt 
in full, together with a Certificate of Freedom, as fol- 
lows : 

Received, Tuscumbia, January 26th, 1849, 
of my boy Peter, three hundred dollars . $300 00 
Jos. Friedman. 



No. 8] Peter Buying Himself 3 9 

Reed. Sept. ist, 1849, of my boy Peter, $88 00 

Eighty-eight dollars and twelve dollars, 12 oo lOO oo 

Reed. Mareh 29th, 1850, of Peter, sixty dollars, 60 00 
Jos. Friedman, $460 00 

Reeeived, April i6th, 1850, fort); dollars, 4000 

$500 00 

For, and in eonsideration of the above five hundred 
dollars, I have this i6th day of April, 1850, given 
Peter a Bill of Sale, and given him his freedom. 

Joseph Friedman. 

Tuseumbia, Ala., April i6th, 1850. 



No. 9] A Poor Whites Opinion 41 

9. A Poor White's Opinion of 
Slavery 

By Hinton Ravan Helper (1857) 

It is a fact well known to every intelligent Southerner This extract 
that we are compelled to go to the North for almost '^ from a 

• T r M- 11 r , tiool^ called 

every article of utihty and adornment, from matches, The hupeini- 
shoepegs and paintings up to cotton-mills, steamships "'s (-'isis, 
and statuary ; that we have no foreign trade, no souther/ * 
princely merchants, nor respectable artists ; that, in white man. 
comparison with the free states, we contribute nothing preat"e.\cite- 
to the literature, polite arts and inventions of the age ; ment inCon- 
that, for want of profitable employment at home, large •^''^^^" 
numbers of our native population find themselves 
necessitated to emigrate to the West, whilst the free 
states retain not only the larger proportion of those 
born within their own limits, but induce annually, 
hundreds of thousands of foreigners to settle and 
remain amongst them. We know that almost every- 
thing produced at the North meets with ready sale, 
while, at the same time, there is no demand, even 
among our own citizens, for the productions of South- 
ern industry ; that, owing to the absence of a proper 
system of business amongst us, the North becomes, 
in one way or another, the proprietor and dispenser 
of all our floating wealth, and that we are dependent 
on Northern capitalists for the means necessary to 
build our railroads, canals and other public improve- 
ments ; that if we want to visit a foreign country, 
even though it may he directly South of us, we find 
no convenient way of getting there except by taking 
passage through a Northern port; and that nearly 



42 On the Plantation [no. 9 

all the profits arising from the exchange of com- 
modities, from insurance and shipping ofifices, and 
from the thousand and one industrial pursuits of the 
country, accrue to the North, and are there invested in 
the erection of those magnificent cities and stupendous 
works of art which dazzle the eyes of the South, and 
attest the superiority of free institutions. 

The North is the Mecca of our merchants, and to 
it they must and do make two j^ilgrimages each year 
— one in the spring and one in the fall. All our 
commercial, mechanical, manufactural, and literary 
supplies come from there. We want Bibles, brooms, 
buckets and books, and we go to the North ; we want 
pens, ink, paper, wafers, and envelopes, and we go to 
the North ; we want shoes, hats, handkerchiefs, um- 
brellas and pocket knives, and we go to the North ; 
we want furniture, crockery, glassware and pianos, 
and we go to the North ; we want toys, primers, 
school books, fashionable apparel, machinery, medi- 
cines, tombstones, and a thousand other things, and 
we go to the North for them all. Instead of keeping 
our money in circulation at home, by patronizing our 
own mechanics, manufacturers, and laborers, we send 
it all away to the North, and there it remains ; it 
never falls into our hands again. 

In one way or another we are more or less subser- 
vient to the North every day of our lives. In infancy 
we are swaddled in Northern muslin ; in childhood we 
are humored with Northern gewgaws; in youth 
we are instructed out of Northern books ; at the age 
of maturity we sow our " wild oats " on Northern 
soil ; in middle-Hfe we exhaust our wealth, energies 
and talents in the dishonorable vocation of entaihng 
our dependence on our children and on our children's 



No. 9] A Poor White s Opinion 43 

children, and, to the neglect of our own interests and 
the interests of those around us, in giving aid and 
succor to every department of Northern power ; in 
the decline of life we remedy our eye-sight with 
Northern spectacles, and support our infirmities with 
Northern canes ; in old age we are drugged with North- 
ern physic ; and, finally, when we die, our inanimate 
bodies, shrouded in Northern cambric, are stretched 
upon the bier, borne to the grave in a Northern car- 
riage, entombed with a Northern spade, and memorized 
with a Northern slab. 

When asked why the North has surpassed the South 
I feel no disposition to mince matters, but mean to 
speak plainly, and to the point. The son of a ven- 
erated parent, who, while he lived, was a considerate 
and merciful slaveholder, a native of the South, born 
and bred in North Carolina, of a family whose home 
has been in the valley of the Yadkin for nearly a 
century and a half, a Southerner by instinct and by 
all the influences of thought, habits, and kindred, and 
with the desire and fixed purpose to reside per- 
manently within the Hmits of the South, and with 
the expectation of dying there also — I feel that I 
have the right to express my opinion, however humble 
or unimportant it may be, on any and every question 
that affects the public good. 

In my opinion, the causes which have impeded the 
progress and prosperity of the South sunk a large 
majority of our people in galling poverty and igno- 
rance ; entailed upon us a humiliating dependence on 
the Free States ; disgraced us in the recesses of our 
own souls, and brought us under reproach in the eyes 
of all civilized and enlightened nations — may all be 
traced to one common source, and there find solution 



44 On the Plantation [no. 9 

in the most hateful and horrible word, that was ever 
incorporated into the vocabulary of human economy 
— slavery. 

The first and most sacred duty of every Southerner, 
who has the honor and the interest of his country at 
heart, is to declare himself as an unqualified and uncom- 
promising abolitionist. No_ -conditional or half-way 
declaration will avail ; no ni^re threatening demon- 
stration will succeed. With those who desire to be 
instrumental in bringing about the triumph of liberty 
over slavery, there should be neither evasion, vacilla- 
tion, nor equivocation. We should listen to no modi- 
fying terms or compromises that may be proposed by 
the proprietors of the unprofitable and ungodly insti- 
tution. Nothing short of the complete abolition of 
slavery can save the South from falHng into the vor- 
tex of utter ruin. Too long have we yielded a sub- 
missive obedience to the tyrannical domination of an 
inflated oligarchy ; too long have we tolerated their 
arrogance and self-conceit ; too long have we sub- 
mitted to their unjust and savage exactions. Let us 
now wrest from them the sceptre of power, establish 
liberty and equal rights throughout the land, and 
henceforth and forever guard our legislative halls 
from the pollutions and usurpations of pro-slavery 
demagogues. 

We propose to subvert this entire system of oligar- 
chal despotism. We think there should be some leg- 
islation for decent white men, not alone for negroes 
and slaveholders. Slavery lies at the root of all the 
shame, poverty, ignorance, tyranny and imbecility of 
the South ; slavery must be thoroughly eradicated ; 
let this be done, and a srlorious future will await us. 



No. lo] Old Junk 45 

lo. A Pompous Old Negro 

By Edward Albert Pollard (1858) 

I HAVE reserved for you some account of that most Mr. Poiiard, 
distinguished palaverer, romancer, diplomat, and ulti- ^ou°^aiist™ 
mately a cobbler of old shoes — Junk. He was a was brought 
short, puffy, copper-colored negro, very greasy, always "p '" ^^^ 
perspiring, and a little lame. " Missis Perline " can ery; and he 
tell you of many sore experiences of Junk's shoe- gives the best 
leather ; when by especial privilege, she was mounted 
on "hip-shot Jack " to go to church. Junk would way- 
lay her in the woods at a distance from the house, and 
claim a hft behind her ; once there, by dint of his best 
boots and crutch, seconded by his young mistress' 
endeavors with the switch, the afifiicted horse would 
be forced into all sorts of shuffling excuses for a 
gallop. 

Junk had not always been a cobbler ; to believe his 
own narrative, he had been a circus-rider, an alligator 
hunter, an attache of a foreign legation, and a mur- 
derer, stained with the blood of innumerable French- 
men, with whom he had quarreled when on his 
European tour. 

The fact was that Junk's master was once sent on 
a European mission, and proposed at first to take our 
hero in his company. Before leaving the limits of 
Virginia, however, he became alarmed at the risk of 
taking Junk among the abolitionists, and finally dis- 
posed of him by hiring him out as a shoemaker or 
cobbler, in a town at some distance from his former 
residence. Junk never forgave his master for this 
unlooked-for slight ; it cut him hard and deep. As 
an instance of the pride of our hero, it is well known 



46 On the Plantation [no. 10 

that when Junk was in his working clothes, he always 
professed to belong to the man who kept the shoe 
shop, and that it was only when he disported himself 
in his hoUday attire, that he claimed to belong to the 
minister plenipotentiary. 

When Junk returned to the old plantation his great 
importance began. He commenced by imposing on 
all the negroes round about, old and young, the story 
that he had actually been to France with his master, 
who still remained there, and that during the time he 
had been missed from the Green Mountain he had 
been lionizing in the famous city of Paris. The story 
took with the innocent darkies and gained Junk great 
fame. He became the oracle of the kitchen, and the 
negroes would crowd around him on every possible 
occasion, as he told the eventful experiences of his 
pilgrimage. Some few of the men were skeptical, 
many were envious; but Junk held his own, and was 
still the especial object of the admiration of the house- 
maids, who gave their sympathy and cheers in every 
combat he had with rival beaux as tributes to the 
truth of his information. " 'Twarnt no use," Miss 
Irene would remark, " to talk to niggers that never 
knowed nothin' bout de furrin country and de Parish, 
where ole mass'r was minister and out-preached dem 
all. Didn't Mr. Junk speak the langwig .? — and dar 
is dat nigger, Colin, wid his swelled head, must always 
put in his mouth, and make Mr. Junk out a born 
liar." 

The ideas concerning the French which Junk spread 
among the negroes were somewhat extraordinary. 
He represented them as a good-for-nothing set, much 
below the standard of negro civilization, a set of puny 
barbarians, who regarded an American darkey as a 



No. lo] Old Junk 47 

being of great majesty. Junk had slain Frenchmen, 
had treated the little, barbarous negro-worshippers 
with disdain, and had received from them tokens of 
great distinction. To these points Colin's cross-ex- 
aminations were mainly directed. He doubted Junk's 
prowess ; he laughed incredulously at his deeds of 
blood ; and he even went so far as to dispute the 
assertion of Junk's intimacy " wid barbarians dat were 
white folks," and to contend that his friend, the 
count, was some old "no count nigger " he had come 
across among the benighted regions outside of Ole 
Virginny. 

We boys used often to join the crowd of Junk's 
listeners, and would have our own amusement in quiz- 
zing the old cobbler. " I suppose, Uncle Junk," Dick 
would say, " when you were in Paris you saw the Palais 
Royal." 

" Saw de Paris Lawyers, young mass'r ! Why, in 
course I did. You see when I got dere, I went to de 
courthouse to hear 'em plead. And when I come in, 
de Paris lawyers were pleading in French ; but when 
dey seed me, dey den commence pleadin in Amerikin." 

The skeptical CoHn would again come up to the 
attack. " I say, big boss, I hope you didn't disgrace 
Ole Virginny by wearing dose boots in de city " — 
referring contemptuously to Junk's immense cowhide 
boots, which showed the deformity of one of his feet. 
But Junk was always ready for the attack ; and im- 
mediately remarked with a serious and gloomy look, 
that he had once killed a certain small Frenchman 
who had insulted his boots. 

" How was it, Junk .-* " 

" Well, you see I was walking in de garden wid em 
breeches tucked down in my boots, when two of dese 



48 



On the Plantatioji 



[No. lo 



mean Frenchmen come along, and de one to toder cast 
an insult on my boots, cos you see he didn't know 
dat I knowd de langwig and could hear him. Well, 
I wouldn't Stan' no insult from no Frenchman, no how ; 




A FIELD HAND. 



SO I jes struck him wid my nerves. And one lick was 
jes enuf — it killed de man ; and dey sent for de sec- 
retary to sot on him." 

"But what did he say about de boots, big boss .'"' 
would inquire the persistent Colin. 



No. II] A Slave Auction 49 

" Well, you see de man talked French, and tain't 
while to tell dat to poor ignorant black trash like 
you." 

But Colin was pressing. He wanted to hear Junk's 
French. The housemaids too, desired a specimen of 
the same, if Mr. Junk would kindly consent to put his 
rival down. " Dat nigger Colin had too much sass 
anyhow — Mr. Junk, ivoii t you please say what de 
Frenchman say .'' " 

" Well," replied Junk, with a sudden jerk of conde- 
scension, " de man didn't say much. He say 'Poly 
glot sots,' and de Amerikin for dat, you know, is ' de 
boots brought de fool.'" And while all joined in 
laughing at Colin's discomfiture. Junk would make 
his retreat good, walking off with a careless and pro- 
voking whistle. 

II. A Slave Auction 

By Edward Albert Pollard (1858) 

I ATTENDED a slavc auction here the other day. The sale of 

The negroes were called up in succession on the steps ^'^^t^^f^i^g ^ 

of the court-house, where the crier stood. Naturally system, and 

most of them appeared anxious as the bidding was '"^"y p-'^'"^^' 

scenes oc- 

going on, turning their eyes from one bidder to the curredat 
other ; while the scene would be occasionally enliv- slave auc- 
ened by some jest in depreciation of the negro on the 
stand, which would be received with especial merri- 
ment by his fellow negroes, who awaited their turn, 
and looked on from a large wagon in which they 
were placed. As I came up, a second-rate plantation 
hand of the name of Noah, but whom the crier per- 
sisted in calling " Noey," was being offered. Noey, 



50 On the Plantation [no. u 

on mounting the steps, had assumed a most drooping 
aspect, hanging his head and affecting the feebleness 
of old age. He had probably hoped to have avoided 
a sale by a dodge, which is very common in such 
cases. But the first bid, a thousand dollars, startled 
him, and he looked eagerly to the quarter whence it 
proceeded. " Never mind who he is, he has got the 
money. Now, gentlemen, just go on ; who will say 
fifty.'' " And so the crier proceeds with his monoto- 
nous calling. " I aint worth all that, mass'r ; I aint 
much 'count no how," cries Noey energetically to the 
first bidder. "Yes, you are, Noey — ah, $i,oio, 
thank you, sir," replies the crier. The gentleman 
who makes this bid is recognized by Noey as " Mass'r 
John," one of the heirs. $i,oii, rejoins the first 
bidder, and Noey throws a glance of infinite disdain 
at him for his presumption in bidding against his 
master. 

As the bidders call over each other, Noey becomes 
more excited. " Drive on, Mass'r John," he exclaims, 
laughing with excitement. The bidding is very slow. 
Mass'r John evidently hesitates at the last call, ^1085, 
as too large a price for the slave, though anxious to 
bid the poor fellow in ; but Noey is shouting to him, 
amid the incitements of the crowd, to " Drive on " ; 
and, after a pause, he says in a firm tone, eleven 
hundred dollars. The crier calls out the round num- 
bers with a decided emphasis. He looks at the first 
bidder, who is evidently making up his mind whether 
to go higher, while Noey is regarding him, too, with 
a look of the keenest suspense. The man shakes his 
head at last, the hammer falls, and Noey, with an 
exulting whoop, dashes down the steps to his master. 



PART II 

THE UNDERGROUND RAIL- 
ROAD AND THE CONTRABAND 



12. On the Underground Railroad 

By Levi Coffin (1850) 

The fugitives generally arrived in the night, and 
were secreted among the friendly colored people or 
hidden in the upper room of our house. They came 
alone or in companies, and in a few instances had a 
white guide to direct them. 

One company of twenty-eight that crossed the Ohio 
River at Lawrenceburg, Indiana — twenty miles be- 
low Cincinnati — had for conductor a white man 
whom they had employed to assist them. The com- 
pany of twenty-eight slaves referred to, all lived in 
the same neighborhood in Kentucky, and had been 
planning for some time how they could make their 
escape from slavery. This white man — John Fair- 
field — had been in the neighborhood for some weeks 
buying poultry, etc., for market, and though among 
the whites he assumed to be very pro-slavery, the 
negroes soon found that he was their friend. 

He was engaged by the slaves to help them across 
the Ohio River and conduct them to Cincinnati. 
They paid him some money which they had managed 
51 



" The Under- 
ground Rail- 
road " was 
not a rail- 
road at all, 
but an organ- 
ization of ab- 
olitionists to 
help slaves to 
run away 
from their 
masters. 
Ohio and 
Pennsylva- 
nia, lying be- 
tween the 
slave states 
and Ciinada, 
had many 
secret routes 
northward. 
Levi Coffin 
operated at 
Cincinnati. 
The Under- 
ground Rail- 
road was the 
most effective 



the result of 
slavery. 



5 2 Underground Railroad [no. 12 

protest to accumulate. The amount was small, considering 

ef'^'becaus^e ^^^ "^^ ^^^ conductoF assumcd, but it was all they 
it enabled had. Several of the men had their wives with them, 
thousands of ^^^ ^^^ womau a little child with her, a few months 
North to see old. Johu Fairfield conducted the party to the Ohio 
River opposite the mouth of the Big Miami, where he 
knew there were several skiffs tied to the bank, near 
a wood-yard. The entire party crowded into three 
large skiffs or yawls, and made their way slowly 
across the river. The boats were overloaded and 
sank so deep that the passage was made in much 
peril. The boat John Fairfield was in was leaky, and 
began to sink when a few rods from the Ohio bank, 
and he sprang out on the sand-bar, where the water 
was two or three feet deep, and tried to drag the boat 
to the shore. He sank to his waist in mud and quick- 
sands, and had to be pulled out by some of the negroes. 
The entire party waded out through mud and water 
and reached the shore safely, though all were wet, 
and several lost their shoes. They hastened along 
the bank toward Cincinnati, but it was now late in the 
night and daylight appeared before they reached the 
city. 

Their plight was a most pitiable one. They were 
cold, hungry, and exhausted; those who had lost 
their shoes in the mud suffered from bruised and 
lacerated feet, while to add to their discomfort a 
drizzling rain fell during the latter part of the night. 
They could not enter the city for their appearance 
would at once proclaim them to be fugitives. When 
they reached the outskirts of the city, below Mill 
Creek, John Fairfield hid them as well as he could, in 
ravines that had been washed in the sides of the 
steep hills, and told them not to move until he re- 



No. 12] 



Fugitives 



53 



turned. He then went directly to John Hatfield, a 
worthy colored man, a deacon in the Zion Baptist 
church, and told his story. He had applied to Hat- 
field before, and knew him to be a great friend to the 
fugitives — one who had often sheltered them under 
his roof and aided them in every way he could. When 
he arrived, wet and muddy, at John Hatfield's house, 
he was scarcely recognized. He soon made himself 




A STATION ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD. 



and his errand known, and Hatfield at once sent a 
messenger to me, requesting me to come to his house 
without delay, as there were fugitives in danger. I 
went at once and met several prominent colored men 
who had also been summoned. While dry clothes 
and a warm breakfast were furnished to John Fair- 
field, we anxiously discussed the situation of the 
twenty-eight fugitives who were lying, hungry and 
shivering, in the hills in sight of the city. 



54 Underground Railroad [no. 12 

Several plans were suggested, but none seemed 
practicable. At last I suggested that some one 
should go immediately to a certain German livery- 
stable in the city and hire two coaches, and that sev- 
eral colored men should go out in buggies and take 
the women and children from their hiding-places, then 
that the coaches and buggies should form a proces- 
sion as if going to a funeral, and march solemnly 
along the road leading to Cumminsville, on the west 
side of Mill Creek. In the western part of Cummins- 
ville was the Methodist Episcopal burying-ground, 
where a certain lot of ground had been set apart for 
the use of the colored people. They should pass this 
and continue on the Colerain pike till they reached a 
right-hand road leading to College Hill. At the lat- 
ter place they would find a few colored famiUes, liv- 
ing in the outskirts of the village, and could take 
refuge among them. Jonathan Cable, a Presbyterian 
minister, who lived near Farmer's College, on the 
west side of the village, was a prominent abolitionist, 
and I knew that he would give prompt assistance to 
the fugitives. 

I advised that one of the buggies should leave the 
procession at Cumminsville, after passing the bury- 
ing-ground, and hasten to College Hill to apprise 
friend Cable of the coming of the fugitives, that he 
might make arrangements for their reception in suita- 
ble places. My suggestions and advice were agreed 
to, and acted upon as quickly as possible. 

While the carriages and buggies were being pro- 
cured, John Hatfield's wife and daughter, and other 
colored women of the neighborhood, busied them- 
selves in preparing provisions to be sent to the fugi- 
tives. A large stone jug was filled with hot coffee, 



No. 12] Fugitives 5 5 

and this, together with a supply of bread and other 
provisions, was placed in a buggy and sent on ahead 
of the carriages, that the hungry fugitives might re- 
ceive some nourishment before starting. The con- 
ductor of the party, accompanied by John Hatfield, 
went in the buggy, in order to apprise the fugitives 
of the arrangements that had been made, and have 
them in readiness to approach the road as soon as 
the carriages arrived. Several blankets were pro- 
vided to wrap around the women and children, whom 
we knew must be chilled by their exposure to the rain 
and cold. The fugitives were very glad to get the 
supply of food ; the hot coffee especially was a great 
treat to them, and much revived them. About the 
time they finished their breakfast the carriages and 
buggies drove up and halted in the road, and the 
fugitives were quickly conducted to them and placed 
inside. The women in the tight carriages wrapped 
themselves in the blankets, and the woman who had 
a young babe muffled it closely to keep it warm, and 
to prevent its cries from being heard. The little 
thing seemed to be suffering much pain, having been 
exposed so long to the rain and cold. 

All the arrangements were carried out, and the 
party reached College Hill in safety, and were kindly 
received and cared for. 

When it was known by some of the prominent 
ladies of the village that a large company of fugitives 
were in the neighborhood, they met together to pre- 
pare some clothing for them. Jonathan Cable as- 
certained the number and size of the shoes needed, 
and the clothes required to fit the fugitives for travel- 
ing, and came down in his carriage to my house, 
knowing that the Anti-Slavery Sewing Society had 



5 6 Underground Railroad [no. 12 

their depository there. I went with him to purchase 
the shoes that were needed, and my wife selected all 
the clothing we had that was suitable for the occa- 
sion ; the rest was furnished by the noble women of 
College Hill. 

I requested friend Cable to keep the fugitives as 
secluded as possible until a way could be provided 
for safely forwarding them on their way to Canada. 
Frisnd Cable was a stockholder in the Underground 
Railroad, and we consulted together about the best 
route, finally deciding on the line by way of Hamilton, 
West Elkton, Eaton, Paris and Newport, Indiana. I 
wrote to one of my particular friends at West Elkton, 
informing him that I had some valuable stock on 
hand which I wished to forward to Newport, and re- 
quested him to send three two-horse wagons — cov- 
ered — to College Hill, where the stock was resting, 
in charge of Jonathan Cable. 

The three wagons arrived promptly at the time 
mentioned, and a little after dark took in the party, 
together with another fugitive, who had arrived the 
night before, and whom we added to the company. 
They went through to West Elkton safely that night, 
and the next night reached Newport, Indiana. With 
little delay they were forwarded on from station to 
station through Indiana and Michigan to Detroit, 
having fresh teams and conductors each night, and 
resting during the day. I had letters from different 
stations, as they progressed, giving accounts of the 
arrival and departure of the train, and I also heard of 
their safe arrival on the Canada shore. 



No. 13] Zekes Freedom 57 

I 3. " Zeke is Free " 

By Rev. William M. Mitchell (1850) 

Some years ago slavery existed in Delaware, and 
running away was then as much practised as it is 
now ; many of the fugitives got to Philadelphia. A 
certain Godwin was in the habit of buying these run- 
away slaves "running " — that is, he paid the master 
a small sum, and took the chance of catching them ; 
of course, if he did not find them, he lost his money ; 
but if he did get them the slaves were his and he 
could sell them at a large profit. In this way God- 
win once purchased a slave named Ezekiel, commonly 
called Zeke. 

Godwin came to Philadelphia and had the coolness to 
call on Isaac T. Hopper, a strong Quaker Abolitionist, 
for information as to the whereabouts of Zeke. While 
talking with Mr. Hopper, up came a black man, who 
paid close attention to the conversation. " How do 
you do, Mr. Godwin," said he ; " don't you know 
me .'' Don't you remember a man that lived near 
your neighbor, Mr. Wilson .? " continued he. " I am 
that man and I am Zeke's brother." The speculator 
inquired if he knew where his brother was. 

" Oh, yes, Mr. Godwin, but I am sorry you have 
bought Zeke ; you'll never make anything of him." 

"Why, what is the matter with Zeke.?" 

" When such fellows as my brother come to Phila- 
delphia, they get into bad company ; they are afraid 
to be seen about in the day, and they go prowling 
about at night. I'm sorry you have bought Zeke ; 
he is just such a character, though he is my 
brother." 



58 Underground Railroad [no. 13 

Godwin, thinking it was rather a bad case, said, 
" Suppose you buy Zeke ? " 

" I should have to take care of him if I did," re- 
plied the black man. " Suppose, however, I should 
think of buying him, what would you take for him ? " 

The trader asked one hundred and fifty dollars, 
which the black man most decidedly refused to give. 
When the trader came down to sixty dollars the black 
man went out and soon returned with the money. 

Mr. Hopper drew up the deed of purchase, and 
when duly signed the black man said, "Zeke is 
free ! " 

"Yes," said Mr. Godwin. 

Not quite believing the trader, the man turned to 
Mr. Hopper saying, " Zeke is free, nobody can take 
him, can they, Mr. Hopper.-*" 

Mr. Hopper replied, "Wherever Zeke is, I assure 
thee, he is free." 

Thus assured, the negro made a low bow towards 
the ground, and with a droll expression of counte- 
nance, said, " I hope you are well, Mr. Godwin ; I 
am happy to see you, sir. I am Zeke ! " 

The trader seized Zeke by the collar, and began to 
threaten and abuse him, whereupon the purchaser 
said quickly: " If you don't let go, Mr. Godwin, I'll 
knock you down ; I am a free citizen of these United 
States, and won't be insulted in this way by anybody." 

Zeke was taken before a magistrate, who listened 
to the particulars and said to Godwin, " Zeke is as 
free as any one in this room, and you have been out- 
witted." 



No. 14J 



Fugitives 



59 



14. The Ways of Fugitives 

By Rev, James Freeman Clarke (1850) 



There were many people in the slave states, even ciarke was 
slave holders, who were willing to secrete fugitives if ""'^ °^ ''^^ 
paid enough for doing it. This I learned from a col- 




AN UNDERGROUND CONDUCTOR. 



among the 
Boston aboli- 
tionists. This 
old woman 
was Harriet 
Tubman. 



ored woman who was famous for having got off many 
fugitives from the South. She helped so many hun- 
dreds to escape that they called her " Moses." She 



6o U?iderg?'ound Railroad [no. 14 

once passed an evening at my house and gave us an 
account of her methods. She said she first obtained 
enough money, then went to Maryland, where she 
privately collected a party of slaves and got them 
ready to start. She first satisfied herself that they 
had enough courage and firmness to run the risks. 
She next made arrangements so that they should set 
out on Saturday night, as there would be no oppor- 
tunity on Sunday for advertising them, and they 
would thus have that day's start on their way north. 
Then she had places prepared where she knew she 
could be sure that they could be protected and taken 
care of, if she had the money to pay for that pro- 
tection. 

When she was at the North she tried to raise funds 
until she got a certain amount, and then went south 
to carry out this plan. She always paid some col- 
ored man to follow after the person who put up the 
posters advertising the runaways, and pull them down 
as fast as they were put up, so that about five minutes 
after each was up it was taken away. She seemed 
to have indomitable courage herself, and a great deal 
of prudence. 

She told me that once when in Baltimore, she 
found a negro cook, a woman who had suffered very 
much, who had had her children taken from her and 
sold, and who was determined to escape. She 
wanted Moses to help her. Moses replied, " If you 
are willing to come with me, I will take you across 
the Delaware." So they went upon a steamer which 
was to sail from Baltimore to Delaware. 

When they were aboard she told the woman to 
stay in one part of the boat, by one of the outside 
guards, and she herself went to the clerk and asked 



No. 14] Fugitives 6 1 

for two tickets to the place she wished to go. He 
looked at her and said, " I do not know whether we 
can let you have them. You will have to wait a little 
while." 

She went back very much alarmed. She knew 
that if there was any investigation made it would be 
found that this woman was a slave, and she would be 
seized. She went and sat down by the side of the 
woman, and the woman said, softly, " Have you got 
the tickets.?" Moses made no reply. "I looked 
straight at the water," she said, "and a great dark- 
ness came over me. All at once everything bright- 
ened again, and I saw a great light which glowed all 
over the river. ' Yes, I have got them now, I am 
sure of it,' I replied." 

After a little while the clerk came to her and said, 
" Here, Aunty, are your tickets," and she succeeded 
in escaping with the woman through Delaware to 
New Jersey. 

Ellen Crafts was a very light mulatto woman, who 
would easily pass for white. She was nurse in a 
family in South Carolina, and did not think of escap- 
ing. She was married to a man darker than herself. 
But on one occasion her mistress intended to go 
North, and wanted to take this colored nurse. Ellen 
Crafts had a little babe of her own. She was expect- 
ing to take her infant with her, till her mistress said, 
"You don't think that I am going to have that child 
with me. No, indeed." So the little babe was left 
behind, and died during its mother's absence. 

When Ellen got home she made up her mind to 
escape. It took her a good while to make her plans. 
At last she determined to disguise herself as a young 



62 Under gr on fid Raih'oad [no. 14 

Southern gentleman and take her husband as a body 
servant. In order that it might not be seen that she 
had no beard she professed to have great suffering 
from her teeth, and had a poultice put round her 
face. In order that she might not be asked to write 
she put her right arm in a sling, as though an in- 
jury had befallen it. So they got off together one 
morning. 

They reached Baltimore safely, although she no- 
ticed in the train a gentleman who had often seen 
her at her master's house. When she got to Balti- 
more she had to meet the difficulty of getting out of 
a slave state into a free one, for which a special pass 
for her servant was necessary. She had none of 
course, but she assumed the haughty airs of a South- 
erner, and when they declined to give her a ticket for 
her servant, she said, " Why, what can I do 1 You 
see my arm ; you see my face in this condition ! I 
must have him to take care of me." So by perse- 
verance she succeeded, and they arrived finally in 
Boston. 

The master of William Crafts heard that he was 
in Boston, and sent on papers to have him arrested 
under the fugitive slave law. It was understood that 
he was to be arrested, and he was prepared to defend 
himself. He said he would kill the United States 
marshal if he attempted to arrest him. 

Then it was arranged that he should be taken to the 
house of ElHs Gray Loring at Brookline, Mass. Mr. 
Loring happened to be away, and the honoi'able na- 
ture of Crafts was seen when he found that Mr. Lor- 
ing was not at home. He asked to see Mrs. Loring, 
and said to her, " I cannot stay when your husband is 
away." " Oh," said Mrs. Loring, " Nothing would 



No. 15] Rescue of yerry 63 

suit him better than to have you stay." "That may 
be so," said Crafts, " but he does not know that I am 
here, and if anything bad happens to you or to him, 
I shall feel that I have done very wrong." It was 
with difficulty that he was at last persuaded by Mrs. 
Lorins: to remain. 



15. The Rescue of Jerry 

By Rev. Samuel Joseph May (1851) 

At the meeting on the 12th of October, 1850, we This was one 
commenced an association to co-operate and to bear of several 

1 > 1 1 • 1 r r rescues of 

one another s burdens in deience 01 any among us runaway 
who should be arrested as slaves. Many came into slaves by 

,,. _ , , , abolitionists 

our agreement. We nxed upon a rendezvous, and from 1850 to 
agreed that any one of our number, who might know 1858. Mr. 
or hear of a person in danger, should toll the bell of of^he'bes°"^ 
an adjoining meeting-house in a particular manner, known aboU- 
and that, on hearing that signal, we would all repair g°^trai^Ne 
at once to the spot, ready to do and to dare whatever York. 
might seem to be necessary. 

On the first day of October, 185 1, a real and, 
as it proved to be, a signal case was given us. 
Just as I was about to rise from my dinner on 
that day I heard the signal-bell, and hurried towards 
the appointed place, nearly a mile from my home. 
But I had not gone half-way before I met the report 
that Jerry McHenry had been claimed as a slave, 
arrested by the police, and taken to the office of the 
Commissioner. So I turned my steps thither. The 
nearer I got to the place, the more persons I met, all 
excited, many of them infuriated by the thought that 
a man among us was to be carried away into slavery. 



64 Underg7^ound Railroad [no. 15 

Jerry was an athletic mulatto, who had been resid- 
ing in Syracuse for a number of years, and working 
quite expertly, it was said, as a cooper. I found him 
in the presence of the Commissioner with the District 
Attorney, who was conducting the trial, — a one-sided 
process, in which the agent of the claimant alone was 
to be heard in proof, that the prisoner was an escaped 
slave, belonging to a Mr. Reynolds, of Missouri. 
The doomed man was not to be allowed to state his 
own case, nor refute the testimony of his adversary, 
however false it might be. While we were attending 
to the novel proceedings, Jerry, not being closely 
guarded, slipped out of the room under the guidance 
of a young man of more zeal than discretion, and 
in a moment was in the street below. The crowd 
cheered and made way for him, but no vehicle having 
been provided to help his escape, he was left to de- 
pend upon his agility as a runner. Being manacled, 
he could not do his best ; but he had got off nearly 
half a mile before the police officers and their parti- 
sans overtook him. I was not there to witness the 
meeting; but it was said the rencounter was a furious 
one. Jerry fought like a tiger, but fought against 
overwhelming odds. He was attacked behind and 
before and soon subdued. He was battered and 
bruised, and his clothes were sadly torn and bloody. 

In this plight he was thrown upon a carman's 
wagon, two policemen sat upon him, one across his 
legs, the other across his body, and thus confined he 
was brought down through the centre of the city, and 
put into a back room of the police office, the whole 
posse being gathered there to guard him. The peo- 
ple, citizens and strangers, were alike indignant. 
As I passed amongst them I heard nothing but exe- 



No. 15] Rescue of Jer?y 65 

crations and threats of release. Two or three times 
men came to me and said, " Mr. May, speak the word, 
and we'll have Jerry out." "And what will you do 
with hdm," I replied, "when you get him out.? You 
have just seen the bad effect of one ill-advised at- 
tempt to rescue him. Wait until proper arrange- 
ments are made. Stay near here to help at the right 
moment and in the right way. In a little while it 
will be quite dark, and then the poor fellow can be 
easily disposed of." 

Presently the Chief of Police came to me, and said, 
" Jerry is in a perfect rage, a fury of passion ; do 
come in and see if you can quiet him." So I followed 
into the little room where he was confined. He was 
indeed a horrible object. I was left alone with him, 
and sat down by his side. So soon as I could get 
him to hear me, I said, "Jerry, do try to be calm." 
" Would you be calm," he roared out, " with these irons 
on you ? What have Tdone to be treated so } Take 
off these handcuffs, and then if I do not fight my 
way through these fellows that have got me here, — 
then you may make me a slave." Thus he raved on, 
until in a momentary interval I whispered, "Jerry, 
we are going to rescue you ; do be more quiet ! " 
"Who are you > " he cried. " How do I know you 
can or will rescue me .!" " After a while I told him 
by snatches what we meant to do, who I was, and 
how many there were who had come resolved to save 
him from slavery. At length he seemed to believe 
me, became more tranquil, and consented to lie down, 
so I left him. 

I went to the office of the late Dr. Hiram Hoyt, 
where I found twenty or thirty picked men laying a 
plan for the rescue. Among them was Gerrit Smith, 

F 



66 U?tde7^grou7id Railroad [no. 15 

who happened to be in town attending the Liberty 
Party Convention. It was agreed that a skilful and 
bold driver in a strong buggy, with the fleetest horse 
to be got in the city, should be stationed not far off 
to receive Jerry, when he should be brought out. 
Then to drive hither and thither about the city- until 
he saw no one pursuing him ; not to attempt to get 
out of town, because it was reported that every exit 
was well guarded, but to return to a certain point 
near the centre of the city, where he would find two 
men waiting to receive his charge ; with them he was 
to leave Jerry, and know nothing about the place of 
his retreat. 

At a given signal the doors and windows of the 
police office were to be demolished at once, and the 
rescuers to rush in and fill the room, press around 
and upon the officers, overwhelming them by their 
numbers, not by blows, and so soon as they were 
confined and powerless by the pressure of bodies 
about them, several men were to take up Jerry and 
bear him to the buggy aforesaid. 

The plan laid down as I have sketched it was well 
and quickly executed, about eight o'clock in the even- 
ing. The police office was soon in our possession. 
One officer in a fright jumped out of a window and 
seriously injured himself. Another officer fired a 
pistol and slightly wounded one of the rescuers. 
With these exceptions there were no personal injuries. 
The driver of the buggy managed adroitly, escaped 
all pursuers, and about nine o'clock delivered Jerry 
into the hands of Mr. Jason S. Hoyt and Mr. James 
Davis. They led him not many steps to the house of 
the late Caleb Davis, who with his wife promptly con- 
sented to give the poor fellow a shelter in their house. 



No. i6j Pass Him On 67 

It was generally supposed he had gone to Canada, in Canada 
But the next Sunday evening, just after dark, a cov- "°?!?°? ,, 
ered wagon with a span of very fleet horses was seen as a slave; 
standing for a few minutes near the door of Mr. and therefore 
Caleb Davis's house. Mr. Jason S. Hoyt and Mr. safe there. 
James Davis were seen to help a somewhat infirm 
man into the vehicle, jump in themselves, and start 
off at a rapid rate. Suspicion was awakened, and 
several of the " patriots " of our city set off in pursuit 
of the "traitors." The chase was a hot one for eight 
or ten miles, but Jerry's deliverers had the advantage 
on the start, and in the speed of the horses that were 
bearing him to liberty. 

He was conveyed to the house of a Mr. Clarke, 
on the confines of the city of Oswego : it was not 
until several days had elapsed that Mr. Clarke was 
able to find one who would undertake to transport a 
fugitive slave over the lake. At length the captain 
of a small craft agreed to set sail after dark. Mr. 
Clarke took Jerry to a less frequented part of the 
shore, embarked with him in a small boat, and rowed 
him to the little schooner of the friendly captain. 
By him he was taken to Kingston, Canada, where he 
soon was established again in the business of a cooper. 



16. Pass Him On 

By H. G. Adams (1854) 

Pass him on ! Pass him on ! 
Another soul from slavery won ; 
Another man erect to stand 
Fearless of the scourge and brand ; 



68 Underground Railroad [No. i6 

Another face now lifted up, 
Lips that drink not sorrow's cup ; 
Eyes no longer dimmed by tears, 
Breath no longer filled with fears; 
Limbs that have no galling chain 
Their free motions to restrain ; 
Back no longer bowed and scored, 
But with birthright now restored. 

He that late the burden bore 
Felt the lash and pangs untold. 

To be chatteHsed no more, 

Bartered, given, bought or sold — 
Pass him on ! 

Pass him on ! Pass him on ! 
Though his foes be legion ; 
Though the bloodhounds on his track, 
Yelling, strive to bring him back ; 
Though man-hunters from the south 
Threat you with the pistol's mouth, 
And the federative law 
Would your spirits overawe. 
Heed them not — imprisonment ! 
Take it, and be well content ; 
Heed them not ; endure the fine ; 
Grow, through sacrifice divine ; 

Do as you'd be done unto, 
Careless of the consequence ; 

Keep the higher law in view ; 
Heed not ruffian violence. 
Pass him on ! 

Pass him on ! Pass him on ! 
Let him lie your couch upon ; 



No. i6] Pass Him On 69 

Give him raiment, give him food, 
Give him kindly words and good ; 
Watch and guard his hours of rest ; 
Hide him from the searcher's quest. 
Through the city wrapped in sleep, 
O'er the river broad and deep, 
By the farmstead, through the vale, 
Lighted by the moonbeams pale ; 
O'er the prairie wild and wide, 
Where the red men still abide 

(Hunters these, but not of slaves — 
Far more merciful than they); 

Storms and tempests, winds and waves, 
Nought the fugitives must stay. 
Pass him on ! • 



Pass him on ! Pass him on ! 
Crime hath he committed none. 
Would you have him grovelling lie 
In the bonds of slavery .'' 
Nobler far to rend in twain 
And throw off the yoke and chain ; 
Nobler through the darkness grim. 
Dangers thick besetting him, 
Freedom thus to seek in flight, 
'Scaping from the gloom of night 
Unto freedom's glorious morn ; 
From the darkness to the dawn 

Leapeth he o'er chasms wide. 

Help him all who help him can, 
God the north star for his guide 

Giveth every fellow-man — 
Pass him on ! 




JOHN BROWN. 



No. 



17] yohn BrowTi s Raid 7 1 

17. John Brown's Raid 

By Captain Dangerfield (1859) 
I WALKED toward my ofifice, then just within the John Brown 



had been en- 
gaged in tlie 
civil war in 
Kansas in 
1856; and 
was noted for 



slaves to steal 
themselves. 



seventeen 
men, he cap- 



armory enclosure, and not more than a hundred yards 
from my house. As I proceeded, I saw a man come 
out of an alley, then another, and another, all coming 
towards me. I inquired what all this meant; they 
said, " Nothing, only they had taken possession of helping 
the Government works." I told them they talked 
like crazy men. They at once cocked their guns and in 1859, with 
told me I was a prisoner. I then asked what they 
intended to do with me. They said I was in no per- turedthe 
sonal danger ; they only wanted to carry me to their government 
captain, John Smith. I asked them where Captain Harper's 
Smith was. They answered, at the guard house, inside Ferry, vir- 
the armory enclosure. I told them I would go there, fri" d 'to" aise 
Upon reaching the gate, I saw what indeed looked the neighbor- 
like war — negroes armed with pikes, and sentinels '"S^'^^^^- 
with muskets all around. Up to this time the citi- 
zens had hardly begun to move about, and knew 
nothing of the raid. When they learned what was 
going on, some came out with old shot guns, and 
were themselves shot by concealed men. All the 
stores, as well as the arsenal, were in the hands of 
Brown's men, and it was impossible to get either arms 
or ammunition, for there were hardly any private 
weapons. At last, however, a few arms were ob- 
tained, and a body of citizens crossed the river and 
advanced from the Maryland side. They made a 
vigorous attack, and in a few minutes caused all the 
invaders who were not killed to retreat to Brown 
inside of the armory gate. 



72 Underground Railroad [no. 17 

Then commenced a terrible firing from without, at 
every point from which the windows could be seen, 
and in a few minutes every window was shattered, 
and hundreds of balls came through the doors. 
These shots were answered from within whenever 
the attacking party could be seen. This was kept 
up most of the day, and, strange to say, not a pris- 
oner was hurt, though thousands of balls were im- 
bedded in the walls, and holes shot in the doors 
almost large enough for a man to creep through. 
At night the firing ceased, for we were in total 
darkness, and nothing could be seen in the engine- 
house. 

During the day and night I talked much with 
Brown. I found him as brave as a man could be, 
and sensible upon all subjects except slavery. He 
believed it was his duty to free the slaves, even if in 
doing so he lost his own life. During a sharp fight, 
one of Brown's sons was killed. He fell ; then try- 
ing to raise himself, he said, " It is all over with me," 
and died instantly. Brown did not leave his post 
at the porthole ; but when the fighting was over he 
walked to his son's body, straightened out his Hmbs, 
took off his trappings, and then, turning to me, said, 
"This is the third son I have lost in this cause." 
Another son had been shot in the morning, and 
was then dying, having been brought in from the 
street. 

The firing was kept up by our men all day and 
until late at night, and during that time several of 
Brown's men were killed, but none of the prisoners 
were hurt, though they were often in great danger. 
When Colonel Lee came with the government troops 
in the night, he at once sent a flag of truce by his 



No. 17] yoh?i Brown s Raid 7 3 

aid, J. E. B. Stuart, to notify Brown of his arrival, 
and in the name of the United States to demand his 
surrender, advising him to throw himself on the 
clemency of the government. Brown declined to 
accept Colonel Lee's terms, and determined to await 
the attack. 

When Stuart had gone. Brown at once proceeded 
to barricade the doors, windows, etc., endeavoring to 
make the place as strong as possible. All this time 
no one of Brown's men showed the least fear, but 
calmly awaited the attack, selecting the best situa- 
tions to fire from, and arranging their guns and pis- 
tols so that a fresh one could be taken up as soon as 
one was discharged. 

When Lieutenant Stuart came in the morning for 
the final reply to the demand to surrender, I got up 
and went to Brown's side to hear his answer. Stuart 
asked, "Are you ready to surrender, and trust to the 
mercy of the government } " Brown answered, " No, 
I prefer to die here." His manner did not betray 
the least alarm. Stuart stepped aside and made a 
signal for the attack, which was instantly begun with 
sledge hammers to break down the door. Finding it 
would not yield, the soldiers seized a long ladder for 
a battering ram, and commenced beating the door 
with that, the party firing incessantly. I had assisted 
in the barricading, fixing the fastenings so that I 
could remove them on the first effort to get in. But 
I was not at the door when the battering began, and 
could not get to the fastenings till the ladder was 
used. I then quickly removed the fastenings, and, 
after two or three strokes of the ladder, the engine 
rolled partially back, making a small aperture, through 
which Lieutenant Green of the Marines forced his 



74 Undergr 01171 d Railroad [no. ^^ 

way, jumped on top of the engine, and stood a second, 
amidst a shower of balls, looking for John Brown. 

When he saw Brown he sprang about twelve feet 
at him, giving an under thrust of his sword, striking 
Brown about midway the body, and raising him com- 
pletely from the ground. Brown fell forward with 
his head between his knees, while Green struck him 
several times over the head, and, as I then supposed, 
split his skull at every stroke. I was not two feet 
from Brown at that time. 

Of course I got out of the building as soon as pos- 
sible, and did not know till some time later that 
Brown was not killed. It seems that Green's sword, 
in making the thrust, struck Brown's belt, and did 
not penetrate the body. The sword was bent double. 
The reason that Brown was not killed when struck 
on the head was, that Green was holding his sword 
in the middle, striking with the hilt, and making only 
scalp wounds. 

After some controversy between the United States 
and the state of Virginia, as to which had jurisdiction 
over the prisoners. Brown was carried to the Charles- 
ton jail, and after a fair trial was hanged. Of course 
I was a witness at the trial, and I must say have 
never seen any man display more courage and forti- 
tude than John Brown showed under the trying cir- 
cumstances in which he was placed. I could not go 
to see him hanged. He had made* me a prisoner, 
but had spared my life and that of other gentlemen 
in his power ; and when his sons were shot down 
beside him, almost any other man similarly placed 
would at least have exacted life for life. 



No. i8] Battle Hymn 75 

18. Battle-hymn of the Republic 

By Mrs. Julia Ward Howe (1866) 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the 

Lord ; 
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of 

wrath are stored ; 
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible 

swift sword : 

His truth is marching on. 

I have seen Him in the watchfires of a hundred cir- 

chng camps ; 
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews 

and damps ; 
I have read His righteous sentence by the dim and 

flaring lamps : 

His day is marching on. 

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of 

steel : 
" As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my 

grace shall deal ; 
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with 

his heel, 

Since God is marching on." 

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never 
call retreat ; 

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judg- 
ment-seat ; 

Oh ! be swift, my soul, to answer Him ! be jubilant, 
my feet ! 

Our God is marchino: on. 



76 



Underground Railroad [No. 19 



In the beauty of the Hlies Christ was born across the 

sea, 
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and 

me ; 
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make 

men free. 

While God is marching: on. 



Miss Bofume 
was a teacher 
of the ne- 
groes who 
had just been 
freed, and 
saw them as 
they came 
out of slav- 
ery. 



19. Refugees from Slavery 

By Elizabeth Hyde Botume (1862) 

The reports of the expeditions to bring off the 
slaves, as given by the officers of the gunboats and 
by the contrabands themselves, were often touching 
and amusing in the extreme. 

An overseer on one of the plantations ran into the 
house when he heard the boats were in sight, and 
excitedly called all the negroes together, saying, 
" The Yankees are coming ! The Yankees are com- 
ing ! The gunboats are down the river. You must 
all keep out of sight. Don't let them see you. If 
they land near here, cut and run and hide where 
nobody can find you. If they catch you they will 
sell you to New Orleans or Cuba ! " 

" Never fear. We'll run sure. We'll run so de 
Debil hisself couldn't catch we ! " they all exclaimed. 

" Don't you worry, Massa Jim," said the old cook. 
" We all hear 'bout dem Yankees. Folks tell we they 
has horns an' a tail. I is mighty skeery myself, an' 
I has all my t'ings pick up, an' w'en I see dem com- 
ing I shall run like all possess'." 

" Well, I am going to the main, and I leave all here 
in your care," said the overseer as he rode off. 



No. ig] 



11 



" Good-by, ole man, good-by. That's right. Ske- 
daddle as fas' as you kin," said the negroes as the 
white man disappeared. " When you cotch we ag'in, I 
'specs you'll know it. We's gwine to run sure enough ; 
but we knows the Yankees, an' we runs that way." 

As the boats ascended the river, crowds of poor 
colored people were seen in some places huddled 
together, or scattered along the shores, screaming and 




THE contraband's HOME. 



gesticulating in the wildest manner. Some of the 
more daring, leaped into the water, trying to wade or 
swim to the boats before they were landed. 

When the gunboats touched the shore, the news 
spread like wildfire. Men, women, and children 
rushed frantically to them, begging to be taken on 
board. There was a curious mixture of hope and 
fear amongst these wretched creatures. 



yS Undergroimd Raih'oad [No. 19 

All the white people on the plantations had left 
precipitately for the interior of the State, taking with 
them as many of their servants as posisble, and leav- 
ing the rest to their fate. On some of the places all 
the strong and able-bodied slaves had been carried 
" up country " by their masters, and only the weak 
and decrepit had been left behind. 

In this general stampede for the boats, of course 
the youngest and strongest were first on board. 
Those still on shore begged so piteously to be taken 
care of, that they were put in the guard-house for 
safe keeping. When order was a little restored, an 
officer walked past the guard-house, and, looking in 
upon the crowd there, said, " Well, what are you all 
about } " 

" Dat's jes' what we'd like ter fin' out, massa," said 
one of them. 

Some sad scenes were witnessed. Mothers were 
separated from their children, and "old parents" 
were overlooked. These poor creatures, on the 
remote plantations of distant islands, had been in the 
most abject fear for a long time. Now those who 
had reached what seemed to them safety were wild 
with delight, and immediately began their jubilant 
shouting songs. But those left behind unprotected, 
ran along the shore and even rushed into the water, 
uttering the most heartrending moans and wail- 
ings, which continued until the boat was out of sight 
and sound. 

Many grotesque scenes were also witnessed. When 
the government steamer John Adams anchored at 
one of the plantations, the negroes rushed along, 
carrying every conceivable thing on their heads that 
could possibly be placed there, — clothing, blankets, 



No. 19] Refugees 79 

tubs, pots, kettles, pigs, and chickens. One old man 
had his sick wife on his back, and a half-grown boy 
had his blind daddy, toting him along "to freedom." 
A huge negress was seen striding along with her 
hominy pot, in which was a live chicken, poised on 
her head. One child was on her back, with its arms 
tightly clasped around her neck, and its feet about 
her waist, and under each arm was a smaller child. 
Her apron was tucked up in front, evidently filled 
with articles of clothing. Her feet were bare, and in 
her mouth was a short clay pipe. A poor little yel- 
low dog ran by her side, and a half-grown pig trotted 
on before. 

Another woman staggered along under a large, 
rice-straw bed and her blankets. A man had a 
heavy box-coop filled with fowls. Innumerable were 
the pathetic and ludicrous stories told by officers and 
men, of scenes which they witnessed on these expe- 
ditions. 

When all these people were brought to Beaufort, 
the town was full to overflowing. They were quar- 
tered in every available place, and packed as closely 
as possible, — in churches and storehouses, and in 
the jail and arsenals. Most of the negro quarters 
had been taken possession of by the slaves who 
formerly lived on the island, and who had fled from 
their old masters on the mainland, back to their 
homes. Gangs of these poor refugees were sent to 
different plantations, until there was shelter for no 
more. There was still a great throng houseless, with 
no resting-place. Tents were put up for them until 
barracks could be built outside the town, of which 
Montgomery District was one. 



8o Underground Railroad [No. 20 

20. A Quick-witted Negro 

By George Henry Gordon (1863) 

General Gor- An incident that occurred at this time showed what 
don, of Mass- ^^^^ -^ would be to discouragc the negroes from es- 

achusetts, •' , 1 1 • 1 • 

describes his capmg to our hncs, and thereby reject their sometmies 
own experi- valuable assistance. Colonel Burr Porter, of the For- 
ences in t le ^.^^^^ Massachusetts Regiment, had sent a negro scout 
to the front, where he was making his way along a 
thickly wooded road, intent on avoiding everybody, 
when he came so suddenly upon a Dr. Richards, — 
a notorious Rebel, — that his only mode of escape 
was by his heels. Suspecting the darkey's movements, 
the doctor called to him to stop, firing his pistol at 
him at the same time to enforce his order. Fortu- 
nately the scout was not hit, and fled all the faster, 
until he gained a thicket, into which he plunged, run- 
ning and scrambling until, breathless and exhausted, 
he fell suddenly into the hands of a squad of Rebel 
infantry. Escape now was hopeless ; his only source 
was in his wits. Gasping for breath, he utilized his 
first pursuer most effectually by crying out, " Don't 
stop me ! Dr.' Richards sent me to tell you that the 
Yankees are coming on your flank, with a large col- 
umn of men ; and he wants me, after telling you this 
to go down on your other flank, and tell some of your 
pickets there to look out." The other flank was in 
the direction of our front, where he would be safe if 
those who held him only believed he was telling the 
truth. 

Fortunately the message he bore was an urgent 
one ; the occasion did not admit of prolonged discus- 
sion, though it was long enough to make the pdbr 



No. 20] ^uick-wiued Negi^o 8 1 

fellow's heart throb with apprehension. For a few 
moments the scout's fate trembled in the balance. 
So well, however, did he conceal the struggle within 
himself, that when he was bidden to go ahead and 
give his message, he could detect no doubts within 
his captors. But joy so overcame the man at his un- 
expected good fortune, that when he sprang forward, 
he did so with an alertness that for the first time 
roused suspicions in a Rebel sergeant that all was not 
right; and he called to him to stop. There was but 
one hope now, and that was flight. The scout acted 
so energetically upon this conviction that he escaped 
unhurt, though a bullet passed through his hat ; and 
he brought to us the information that a regiment of 
Rebel infantry last night crossed the Mattapony to 
the peninsula, and was now within seven miles of my 
outposts. I thought this poor negro had proved his 
right to possess the freedom to use for his own ad- 
vancement those talents and faculties which he had 
made so serviceable to us. 

The 29th of May increased my stock of negroes by 
fourteen, - — old and young, crippled and able-bodied, 

— all of whom had escaped from the clutches of slave- 
masters. From them all I secured much valuable in- 
formation. One facetious old woman lamented the loss 
of flour, corn-meal, and meat, which she had been 
obliged to leave behind ; she feared they might fall into 
Rebel hands, and thus make them a little less hungry. 
She asked that my troops and gunboats might make 
a special trip to her domain to bring away her edibles, 

— urging as a bait that I might capture some Rebel 
pickets who were lying in wait to catch me. 

Representing the Rebel pickets as quite vigilant, 
though entertaining a wholesome dread of gunboats, 



8 2 U?idergroimd Railroad [no. 20 

she thought she could so direct the fire of our guns 
" dat some of dose big shells'll hit 'em, — dough dey 
say if you'se all cum up dey gwine to climb trees to 
'vade your boat. I knows dey will clar if you fire at 
'em. And, oh lordy, won't dey run and sweep away 
all de black folks to Richmond ! Took my son dis 
morning. ' Cum up ! ' dey say to him ; 'you har .-' go 
long ! won't hab you telHng Yankees eb'ryting.' " My 
stock of females has so largely increased, that I fear 
very much for the peace of mind of Old Bob, — Cap- 
tain Scott's servant, a venerable darkey of more years 
than he knows, who, when asked if he was a hundred, 
replied, " Spec's I am, sir." While the captain was 
at Washington recovering from his Chancellorsville 
wound, Old Bob said to the captain, " I 'fraid some 
dose darkeys make me marry 'em." But Bob escaped, 
and recalled a former charmer, to whom, though she 
wouldn't " put her name on de paper [a contract of 
marriage] when I was dar," he caused a letter to be 
written. This he brought to the captain with the 
request, " Back dat, sir, ef you please" [direct it]. 

" To whom .'' " asked the captain. 

" Well," — in some confusion, — " put my name on 
it." 

" But that won't reach any one ! To whom do you 
wish to send it .? " 

" Wy, to Em'ly ! " 

" Emily who .'' " 

" I dunno, sir ! " 

" Where is she .-' " 

" Wy, dar in Washington ! " 

" Where's ' dar ' .-* " 

" Wy, Sandy Bill; he know! " So the letter went 
to " Emily, care of Sandy Bill, care of Mr. J. W. 



No. 21] Soldie?^s Song 8 3 

Rodgers, Washington," — the latter being the name 
of an officer whom Bob had attended during the cap- 
tain's recovery. 



2 1. Song for our Soldiers 

Oh ! for the Union, boys ! 
Ho ! for the Union, boys : 
Go for the Union, boys. 

Heart, hand, and gun. 
Shoulder to shoulder, boys, 
■ Younger and older, boys. 
Bolder and bolder, boys, 

Every mother's son ! 

Where you find the white men, 
Union-hating white men. 
Ribald rabble white men. 

Let your cannon play. 
Where you find the black men, 
Union-loving black men, 
True and loyal black men, 

Let 'em run away ! 
Break off their chains, boys ! 
Strike off their chains, boys ! 
Knock off their chains, boys, 

And let 'em run away. 

Oh ! for the Union, boys ! 
Ho ! for the Union, boys : 
Go for the Union, boys, 
Heart, hand, and sword. 



84 Unde?^grou?id Railroad [no. 22 

Shoulder to shoulder, boys, 
Bolder and bolder, boys, 
Younger and older, boys. 
Trusting in the Lord. 

Where you find the white men, 
Union-hating white men. 
Ribald rabble white men. 

Let your cannon play ! 
Where you find the black men. 
Union-loving black men. 
True and loyal black men. 

Let 'em run away. 
Break off their chains, boys ! 
Strike off their chains, boys ! 
Knock off their chains, boys, 

And let 'em run away ! 



2 2. Scenes in Savannah 

By Charles Carleton Coffin (1864) 

Mr. Coffin As I intended to spend some days in Savannah, I 

was a news- gg|- ^y^- Qj-^g af tcmoon in search of lodgings more com- 
spondentand modious than thosc furnishcd at the Pulaski House, 
had many and I was directed to a house owned by a gentleman 
ofsTJi'ng'^'^^ who, during the war, had resided in Paris, — a large 
things as they brick mansion, fronting on one of the squares, ele- 
gantly finished and furnished. It had been taken 
care of, through the war, by two faithful negroes, 
Robert and his wife. Aunt Nellie, both of them slaves. 
I rang the bell, and was ushered into the basement 
' by their daughter Ellen, also a slave. Robert was 



were. 



No. 22] Scenes i?i Savannah 85 

fifty-three years of age, — a tall, stout, coal-black, 
slow-spoken, reflective man. Aunt Nellie was a year 
or two younger. Her features were of the African 
type ; her eyes large and lustrous. Her deportment 
was lady-like, her language refined. She wore a 




A SLAVE MOTHER. 



gingham dress, and a white turban. Ellen, the 
daughter, had a fair countenance, regular features, of 
lighter hue than either father or mother. She ap- 
peared as much at ease as most young ladies who are 
accustomed to the amenities of society. Aunt Nellie 
called me by name. 



86. Underground Railroad [no. 22 

" I saw you yesterday at church," she said. 

She placed a chair for me before the fire, which 
burned cheerfully on the hearth. There was a vase 
of amaranths on the mantel, and lithographs on the 
walls. A clock ticked in one corner. There were 
cushioned arm-chairs. The room was neat and tidy, 
and had an air of cheerfulness. A little boy, four 
or five years old, was sitting by the side of Aunt 
Nellie, — her grand-nephew. He looked up wonder- 
ingly at the stranger, then gazed steadily into the fire 
with comical gravity. 

" You are from Boston, I understand," said Aunt 
Nellie. " I never have been to Boston, but I have 
been to New York several times with my master." 

" Did you have any desire to stay North } " 

"No, sir, I can't say that I had. This was my 
home; my children and friends, and my husband 
were all here." 

" But did you not wish to be free ? " 

" That is a very different thing, sir. God only 
knows how I longed to be free ; but my master was 
very kind. They used to tell me in New York that I 
could be free; but I couldn't make up my mind to 
leave master, and my husband. Perhaps if I had 
been abused as some of my people have, I should 
have thought differently about it." 

" Well, you are free now. I suppose that you never 
expected to see such a day as this ! " 

" I can't say that I expected to see it, but I knew it 
would come. I have prayed for it. I didn't hardly 
think it would come in my time, but I knew it must 
come, for God is just." 

** Did you not sometimes despair .-' " 

" Never ! sir; never ! But O, it has been a terrible 



No. 22] Scenes in Savannah 87 

mystery, to know why the good Lord should so long 
afflict my people, and keep them in bondage, — to be 
abused, and trampled down, without any rights of 
their own, — with no ray of light in the future. Some 
of my folks said there wasn't any God, for if there 
was he wouldn't let white folks do as they have done 
for so many years ; but I told them to wait, — and 
now they see what they have got by waiting. I told 
them that we were all of one blood, — white folks and 
black folks all come from one man and one woman, 
and that there was only one Jesus for all. I knew it, 

— I knew it! " She spoke as if it were an indispu- 
table fact which had come by intuition. 

Here Aunt Nellie's sister and her husband came 
in. 

" I hope to make your better acquaintance," she 
said, courtesying. It is a common form of expres- 
sion among the colored people of some parts of the 
South. She was larger, taller, and stouter than Aunt 
Nellie, younger in years, less refined, — a field hand, 

— one who had drunk deeply of the terrible cup which 
slavery had held to her lips. She wore a long gray 
dress of coarse cloth, — a frock with sleeves, gathered 
round the neck with a string, — the cheapest possible 
contrivance for a dress, her only garment, I judged. 

"These are new times to you," I said. 

" It is a dream, sir, — a dream ! 'Pears Hke I don't 
know where I am. When General Sherman come and 
said we were free, I didn't believe it, and I wouldn't 
believe it till the minister told us that we were free. 
It don't seem as if I was free, sir." She looked into 
the fire a moment, and sat as if in a dream, but 
roused herself as I said, — 

" Yes, you are free." 



8 8 Underground Railroad [no. 22 

" But that don't give me back my children, — my 
children, that I brought forth with pains such as 
white women have, — that have been torn from my 
breast, and sold from me ; and when I cried for them 
was tied up and had my back cut to pieces!" 

She rose and approached her sister, evidently to 
call her mind from the terrible reality of the past. 
"You used to come in here and go worry, worry, 
worry all day and all night, and say it was no use ; 
that you might as well die; that you would be a great 
deal better off if you were dead. You wouldn't be- 
lieve me when I said that the Lord would give de- 
liverance. You wouldn't believe that the Lord was 
good; but just see what he has done for you, — made 
you free. Aren't you willing to trust him now } " 

The sister made no reply, but sat wiping away her 
tears, and sighing over the fate of her children. 

" Did you not feel sometimes like rising against 
your masters.''" I asked of the husband. 

" Well, sir, I did feel hard sometimes, and I reckon 
that if it hadn't been for the grace which the Lord 
gave us we should have done so ; but he had compas- 
sion on us, and helped us to bear it. We, knew that 
he would hear us some time." 

" Did you ever try to escape .■• " 

" No, sir. I was once interested in colonization, 
and talked of going to Africa, — of buying myself, 
and go there and be free. But just then there was 
so much excitement among the slaves about it, that 
our masters put a stop to it." 

" The good people of Boston are heaping coals of 
fire on the heads of the slaveholders and Rebels," 
said Aunt Nellie. 

" How so .'' " I asked. 



No. 22] Scenes in Savannah 89 

" Why, as soon as General Sherman took possession 
of the city, you send down ship-loads of provisions to 
them. They have fought you with all their might, 
and you whip them, and then go to feeding them." 

" I 'spect you intended that black and white folks 
should have them alike," said her sister. 

"Yes, that was the intention." 

" Not a mouthful have I had. I am as poor as 
white folks. All my life I have worked for them. 
I have given them houses and lands ; they have rode 
in their fine carriages, sat in their nice parlors, taken 
voyages over the waters, and had money enough, 
which I and my people earned for them. I have had 
my back cut up. I have been sent to jail because I 
cried for my children, which were stolen from -me. 
White men have done with us just as they pleased. 
Now they turn me out of my poor old cabin, and say 
they own it." 

"Come, come, sister, don't take on; but you just 
give thanks for what the Lord has done for you," 
said Aunt NelUe. 

Her sister rose, stately as a queen, and said, — 

" I thank you, sir, for your kind words to me to- 
night. I thank all the good people in the North for 
what they have done for me and my people. The 
good Lord be with you." 

As she and her husband left the room. Aunt Nellie 
said, — 

" Poor girl ! she can't forget her children. She's 
cried for them day and night." 



90 Under gi^otmd Railroad [no. 23 
23. A Slave's Reminiscences 

By Charles Carleton Coffin (1864) 

Passing by a church, I saw the sexton, with brush 
in hand, sweeping the aisles. The edifice was a sub- 
stantial, ancient structure, with a mahogany pulpit 
of the old style, a broad aisle, chandelier pendent 
from the arched roof, filagree and panel-work around 
the galleries. Old and aristocratic families had sat 
in the cushioned pews, — men of vast wealth, owning 
houses, lands, and slaves. A great organ loomed high 
up in the gallery, its gilt pipes fronting the pulpit. 
Marriages and funerals had been solemnized at the 
altar. For fifteen years, Sunday after Sunday, this sex- 
ton had faithfully discharged his duties at the church. 

He was stout, thick-set, strong, with well-developed 
muscles and a clear eye. He was gentlemanly in his 
deportment, and his voice was one of the most musi- 
cal I ever Jieard. 

" Shall I take a look at the church } " 

" Certainly, sir. Walk in." 

His words were as if he had chanted them, so 
faultless the tone, inflection, and cadence. His fea- 
tures were well formed, but anthracite coal is not 
blacker than his complexion. I was interested in 
him at once. He leaning upon his broom, and I sit- 
ting in one of the pews, had a free conversation upon 
the events of his life. 

He was born in Norfolk, Virginia, in 1829. 

" My old master died," said he, " and I fell to his 
son, who went off to college and got to spreeing it, 
lost all his property, and of course I had to be sold. 
I brought twelve hundred dollars, — that was in 1849, 



No. 23] A Slave s Reminiscences 9 1 

— but another man offered the man who bought me 
a hundred and fifty dollars bonus for his bargain, 
which was accepted, and I was brought to Charleston. 
I have always been a slave." 

" But you are a free man now ; just as free as I am." 

" Yes, sir, so General Sherman told me. I had a 
talk with him ; and he talked just as free with me as 
if I was his own brother. But I don't feel it in my 
heart, sir, to go away and leave my old master, now 
that he is poor, and calamity has come upon him." 

" Has he always treated you well } " 

" Yes, sir, — that is, he never scarred my back. 
Some masters are mighty hard, sir. I don't blame 
some negroes for running away from their masters 
now that they can, for they have been treated mighty 
bad, sir ; but my master has had great calamity come 
upon him, sir. When I was brought here from Nor- 
folk, master's son Bob, who is in Texas, — a captain 
in the Southern army now, — saw me, and liked me, 
and I liked him, and his father bought me for Bob, 
and Bob and I have been like brothers to each other. 
I have no complaint to make. But master has lost 
two sons in Virginia. One of them was killed in the 
first battle of Manassas."* 

" I suppose you have heard many prayers here for 
Jeff Davis } " 

"Yes, sir, and mighty fine sermons for the Southern 
army, sir ; and there have been solemn scenes in this 
church, sir. Six bodies, one Sunday, after the first 
battle of Manassas, were here in this broad aisle. 
I had the communion-table set out here, right in front 
of the pulpit, and there they lay, — six of 'em. I 
couldn't help crying when I saw 'em, for they were 
just like old friends to me. They used to attend the 



9 2 Underground Railroad [no. 23 

Sunday school when they were boys, and used to cut 
up a little wild, and it was my business to keep 'em 
straight. They belong to the Oglethorpe Light In- 
fantry, and went with Colonel Barton. They went 
away gayly, and thought they were going to Rich- 
mond to have a nice time. Their mothers and sisters 
told them to go and fight the Yankees. They didn't 
expect to see them brought back dead, I reckon. It 
was a sad day, sir." 

" Then the women were as eager as the men for 
the war .'' " 

" Yes, sir, — more. They were crazy about fight- 
ing the Yankees. I know that some of the boys 
didn't want to fight against the flag, but the women 
made 'em. The men had to wear Secession badges, 
as something to show that they were for the South. 
If it hadn't been for the ladies, I reckon we wouldn't 
have had the war." 

" What do the women think now .-' " 

" Well, sir, some of them are as bitter as ever they 
were against the Yankees, but I reckon they don't 
care to say much ; and then there are others who see 
it ain't no use to try to hold out any longer. There 
are lots of 'em who have lost their husbands and 
brothers and sons. I reckon there are very few of 
the Light Infantry left. I know 'em all, for I took 
care of their hall, — their armory, — and they made 
me hoist the union flag down one day. That made 
me feel very bad, sir. I always loved the flag, and 
I love it now better than 6ver. It makes me feel 
bad to think that my boys fought against it. But I 
reckon it is the Lord's doing, sir, and that it will be 
a blessing to us in the end." 

" Can you read an.d write .? " I asked. 



No. 24] First School Days 93 

" A little, sir. I never had any one to show me, 
but I used to sit down here in the pews and take up 
the hymn-book, and spell out the words, and one day 
master Bob set me a copy in writing, and so I have 
learned a little. I can read the newspapers, sir, and 
have kept track of the war." 

We talked upon the prospects of the colored peo- 
ple now that they were free. 

"I reckon, sir," said he, "that a good many of 'em 
will be disappointed. They don't know what freedom 
is. But they will find that they have got to work, or 
else they won't get anything to eat. They are poor, 
ignorant creatures ; but I reckon, sir, that after a 
while, when things get settled, they will learn how to 
take care of themselves. But I think they are mighty 
foolish to clear out and leave their old masters, when 
they can have good situations, and good pay, and 
little to do. Then, sir, it is kind of ungrateful like, to 
go away and leave their old masters when the day 
of calamity comes. I could not do it, sir ; besides, I 
reckon I will be better off to stay here for the present, 



24. First School Days 

By Elizabeth Hyde Botume (1865) 

One bright November morning I started to take pos- 
session of my contraband school. The air was soft as 
June; birds were singing; the cotton-fields were gay 
with blossoms which contrasted charmingly with the 
white matured bolls. My path lay through a grand old 
live-oak grove. It was wonderfully attractive, with its 
great trees covered with long gray moss, through 



94 Underground Railroad [no. 24 

which the broad sunshine cast fantastic Hghts and 
shadows. From this I emerged into an open field. 
There was no regular path, and the walk over the old 
cotton hills was exceedingly rough and uncomfortable. 
The schoolhouse to which I was appointed was a 
rough, wooden building standing on palmetto posts 




A SOUTHERN SCHOOLHOUSB 



two or three feet from the ground, with an open 
piazza on one side. When I first came in sight of 
this building, the piazza was crowded with children, 
all screaming and chattering like a flock of jays and 
blackbirds in a quarrel. But as soon as they saw me 
they all gave a whoop and a bound and disappeared. 



No. 24] Fi?'st School Days 9 5 

When I reached the door there was no living thing to be 
seen ; all was hterally as still as a mouse ; so I in- 
spected my new quarters while waiting for my forces. 

There was one good sized room without partitions ; 
it was not ceiled, but besides the usual heavy board 
shutters its six windows were glazed. This was a 
luxury which belonged to but few of the school-build- 
ings. Indeed, these glazed windows had been held 
up to me as a marked feature in my new location. 

The furniture consisted of a few wooden benches, 
a tall pine desk with a high office stool, one narrow 
blackboard leaning against a post, and a huge box 
stove large enough to warm a Puritan meeting-house 
in the olden times. The pipe of the stove was put 
through one window. 

I believe this was the first building ever erected 
exclusively for a colored school. It was built for the 
colored refugees with a fund sent to General Saxton 
for this purpose by a ladies' freedman's aid society 
in England. All the contraband schools were at 
that time kept in churches, or cotton-barns, or old 
kitchens. Some teachers had their classes in tents. 

Inspection over, I vigorously rang a little cracked 
hand-bell which I found on the desk. Then I saw 
several pairs of bright eyes peering in at the open 
door. But going toward them, there was a general 
scampering, and I could only see a head or a foot dis- 
appearing under the house. Again I rang the bell, 
with the same result, until I began to despair of get- 
ting my scholars together. When I turned my back 
they all came out. When I faced about they darted 
off. In time, however, I succeeded in capturing one 
small urchin, who howled vociferously, " O ! O ! " 
This brought out the others, who seemed a little 



96 Under gf^oiind Raihoad [no. 24 

scared and much amused. I soon reassured my cap- 
tive, so the rest came in. Then I tried to seat them, 
which was about as easy as keeping so many marbles 
in place on a smooth floor. Going towards half a dozen 
little fellows huddled together on one bench, they simul- 
taneously darted down under the seat, and scampered 
off on their hands and feet to a corner of the room, 
looking very much like a family of frightened kittens. 
Hearing a noise and suppressed titters back of me, 
I looked around, and saw four or five larger boys 
rolling over and over under the benches towards the 
door. Whether for fun or freedom I could not tell ; 
but as the first boy sprang to his feet and out of the 
door, I concluded they all planned escape. But I 
halted the rest, and got them on to their feet and into 
their seats. Then I looked them over. They saw I 
was not angry, but in earnest, so they quieted down. 
The runaway peeped in at the door, then crept along 
and sat down by his companions. There was not 
a crowd, of them, — not half as many as I supposed 
from all the clatter they had made. 

All these children were black as ink and as shy as 
wild animals. I had seen some of them before, and 
the brightest among them had been pointed out ; but 
they all looked alike to me now. I tried in vain to 
fix upon some distinguishing mark by which I might 
know one from another. Some of these children had 
been in a school before, but they were afraid of white 
people, and especially of strangers. As they said of a 
teacher on a subsequent occasion, " Us ain't know she." 

I had much the same experience with these children 
a few months later. Small-pox had broken out in the 
colored camps around Beaufort, and the commanding 
officer issued an order that all the children should be 



No. 24] First School Days 97 

vaccinated. So one morning a physician came to my 
school for this purpose ; I expected him, but had said 
nothing, not anticipating a riot. The room was full, 
many large boys and girls being present. The doc- 
tor laid his hat with a small box on the desk and 
took a chair. I called the largest girl in the room 
to me, and I rolled up her sleeve, the whole school 
watching us with anxiety. The doctor took hold of 
her hand and raised his lancet ; this was too much ; 
she uttered a shriek, snatched away her hand, and 
darted out of the room, and the entire school followed 
her. The leaders dashed down the river-bank, and 
the little ones darted under the house. I called in 
vain, and frantically rang my bell. Miss P^annie, who 
was with me by that time, hunted about, and coaxed 
the few laggards she found ; but they were not to be 
lured back to face a direful enemy who confronted 
them with a murderous weapon. There was nothing 
further to be done that day. The doctor went home, 
and towards night Miss Fannie and I went to see some 
of the people, to whom we explained the object of the 
doctor's visit. The mothers, who had been watchful 
to protect their children, now turned around and be- 
rated them well for their fears. 

" Don't you fret, missis. They is sure to be there 
to-morrow," they said ; and so they were, in full force. 
The doctor came again, and I explained what he 
wished to do, baring my own arm to show them the 
scar made by vaccination in my childhood. Now 
they were all as eager to have this done as they were 
reluctant before. Some of the boys came back and 
begged to have some of that little stuff put into the 
other arm. They evidently considered the bit of 
court-plaster a badge of honor. 



98 U?ide?^ ground Railroad [No. 25 
25. Calling the Roll 

By Elizabeth Hyde Botume (1865) 

These children had been born and bred in troub- 
lous times. They had always been surrounded by 
conflict and confusion. Irrepressible .'' That's tame ! 
They were in a constant state of effervescence. In 
time, after some more skirmishing, the little gang be 







PICKANINNIES. 



fore me was brought into a degree of order. They 
listened, apparently, with open mouths and staring 
eyes to what I had to say. But I soon discovered 
my words were like an unknown tongue to them. I 
must first know something of their dialect in order 
that we might understand each other. 

Now I wished to take down the names of these 



No. 25] Calling the Roll 99 

children ; so I turned to the girl nearest me and said, 
" What is your name ? " 

" It is Phyllis, ma'am." 

" But what is your other name .-' " 

" Only Phyllis, ma'am." 

I then explained that we all have two names ; but 
she still replied, " Nothing but Phyllis, ma'am." 

Upon this an older girl started up and exclaimed, 
" Pshaw, gal ! What's you'm title .'' " whereupon she 
gave the name of her old master. 

After this each child gave two names, most of 
them funny combinations. Sometimes they would 
tell me one thing, and when asked to repeat it, would 
say something quite different. The older children 
would frequently correct and contradict the younger 
ones. I know now that they manifested much inge- 
nuity in invention or selection of names and titles. 
One boy gave his name as Middleton Heywood, 
shouting it out as if it were something he had caught 
and might lose. Whereupon another boy started up, 
saying angrily, " Not so, boy. You ain't Massa Mid- 
die's boy. I is." 

All were now busily studying up their cognomens, 
and two or three would try to speak together before 
being called upon. One boy was " Pumpkin," an- 
other " Squash," and another " Cornhouse." The 
girls were " Honey," and " Baby," and " Missy," and 
** Tay," with an indiscriminate adoption of Rhetts, 
Barnwells, Elliots, Stuarts, and Middletons, for titles. 

I thought of Adam's naming the animals, and won- 
dered if he had been as much puzzled as I. Certainly 
he gave out the names at first hand, and had no con- 
flicting incongruities to puzzle him. In time I en- 
rolled fifteen names, the number present. 



loo U?iderg?^oimd Railroad [no. 25 

The next morning I called the roll, but no one 
answered, so I was obliged to go around again and 
make out a new list. I could not distinguish one 
from another. They looked like so many peas in a 
pod. The woolly heads of the girls and boys looked 
just alike. All wore indiscriminately any cast-off 
garments given them, so it was not easy to tell which 
was which. Were there twenty-five new scholars, or 
only ten .'' 

The third morning it was the same work over 
again. There were forty children present, many of 
them large boys and girls. I had already a hst of 
over forty names. Amongst these were most of the 
months of the year and days of the week, besides a 
number of Pompeys, Cudjos, Sambos, and Rhinas, 
and Rosas and Floras. I now wrote down forty new 
names, and I began to despair of ever getting regu- 
lated. Fortunately, the day before, I had given out 
two dozen paper primers with colored pictures, and 
had written a name on each. So I called these 
names, but only two or three children came forward 
to claim their books. So I laid the rest one side. 
Then half-a-dozen little heads were lifted up, and 
one boy said, " Please, ma'am, us wants one o' dem." 

" I have no more, and these are given away al- 
ready," I said. 

"You'na done give them to we!" they exclaimed. 
I asked the first boy what was his name. Then I 
looked over the books. No name had been put down 
like the one he gave. It was the same with all the 
rest. But as I turned the books over, one girl ex- 
claimed, " Dar, da him ! " And coming forward, she 
pointed to one of the primers with evident delight, 
saying, " Him's mine." I looked at the written 



No. 25] Calling the Roll i o i 

name. It was Lucy Barnwell. I asked her name. 
It was Fanny Osborne. " Pshaw, gal ! " exclaimed 
an older girl, " Dat's youn'a mammy's name." 

Now the others came forward and picked out their 
own books. What marks they had to distinguish 
their property I have never been able to discover. 

In time I began to get acquainted with some of 
their faces. I could remember that " Cornhouse " 
yesterday was " Primus " to-day, and "Quash" was 
" Bryan." 

It was months before I learned their family rela- 
tions. The terms " bubber " for brother, and " titty " 
for sister, with " nanna " for mother, and "mother" 
for grandmother, and father for all leaders in church 
and society, were so generally used, I was forced to 
believe that all belonged to one immense family. It 
was hopeless trying to understand their titles. There 
were two half-brothers in school. One was called 
Dick, and the other Richard. In one family there 
were nine brothers and half-brothers, and each took 
a different title. One took Hamilton, and another 
Singleton, and another Baker, and others Smith, 
Simmons, etc. Their father was " Jimmy of the 
Battery," or "Jimmy Black." I asked why his title 
was Black. 

" Oh, him look so. Him one very black man," 
they said. 

These men are well settled, and have families grow- 
ing up in honor and respectability who are as tena- 
cious of their titles as any of the F. F. Vs. 

One boy gave the name of Middleton, but after- 
wards came to me, wishing to have it changed, say- 
ing, "That's my ole rebel master's title. Him's 
nothing to me now. I don't belong to he no longer, 



I o 2 Unclerg?^ound Railroad [no. 26 

an' I don't see no use in being called for him." But 
when I asked what other name he would choose, the 
poor fellow was much puzzled. He evidently sup- 
posed I could supply a proper cognomen as I sup- 
plied new clothes, picking out something to fit. In 
time he decided upon Drayton, as " that was a good 
name in secesh times, and General Drayton was a 
friend to we, an' no mistake. He fight on our side 
'gainst his own brother when the first gun shoot." 

That was the beginning of time for these poor freed 
people, "when the first gun shoot." 



26. A Colored Waif 

By Elizabeth Hyde Botume (1865) 

One bright morning in May, 1865, an orderly rode 
up to our door at the plantation with a military order 
from General Saxton, requiring us, Miss Fannie and 
myself, to report at headquarters in Beaufort that 
afternoon. An ambulance would be sent for us at 
three o'clock. Unless something unexpected pre- 
vented we should be returned to our home Sunday 
afternoon. This was Friday. 

With this order was a bright note from the major's 
wife, telling us not to be alarmed by a military sum- 
mons ; they all knew that nothing less than a com- 
mand with authority would bring us to them, and 
indeed, we must know they wanted to see us very 
much ; besides, they had something to tell us. 

So in due time we were packed into an ambulance 
and conveyed to town, where we were received at 
headquarters by an orderly, and conducted to the 



No. 26] A Coloj^ed Jf^aif 103 

general. He received us with military formality, 
asked us a few questions, then laughingly turned us 
over to the colonel and major, who conducted us to 
the ladies. 

We soon learned why we were summoned at this 
special time. A little mulatto boy had been sent to 
General Saxton by Mrs. Jefferson Davis, and now 
the question came up, what was the best thing to do 
with him. 

He was about seven years old, but small for his 
age ; was a very light mulatto, with brown curly hair, 
thin hps, and a defiant nose. When brought before 
us he looked around suspiciously and fearlessly. 
When Mrs. Saxton called him he walked calmly up 
to her ; but when I held out my hand to him he 
folded his arms and stood still, straight as an arrow, 
with his head thrown back, without meeting my 
friendly advances. It was comical to see the cool 
indifference of this tiny scrap of humanity. 

" Jimmie, this lady is your friend," said Mrs. Sax- 
ton. Thereupon he walked up to me and held out 
his hand. " Now go out on the piazza, and wait until 
I call you," continued the lady. 

Now his whole manner changed. Taking the ma- 
jor's little boy by the hand, he went out of the room 
laughing and talking and we soon saw him racing 
around with Eddie full of fun and frolic. He was 
evidently fond of children, but he distrusted grown 
people. Well he might, for he had seen only troub- 
lous times. This was his story as then told us : an 
officer brought with him this small colored boy, sent 
by Mrs. Davis to General Saxton. She also sent the 
following note by the boy, written with pencil on the 
blank leaf of a book : — 



1 04 Under groimd Railroad [no. 26 

" I send this boy to you, General Saxton, and beg 
you to take good care of him." His mother was a 
free colored woman in Richmond. She died when 
he was an infant, leaving him to the care of a friend, 
who was cruel and neglectful of him. One day Mrs. 
Davis and her children went to the house and found 
this woman beating the httle fellow, who was then 
only two years old. So she took him home with her, 
intending to find a good place for him. But he was 
so bright and playful, her own children were unwill- 
ing to give him up. Then she decided to keep him 
until he was old enough to learn a trade. " That was 
five years ago, and he has shared our fortunes and 
misfortunes until the present time. But we can do 
nothing more for him. I send him to you, General 
Saxton, as you were a friend of our earher and better 
times. You will find him affectionate and tractable. 
I beg you to be kind to him." This was the gist of 
her note. 

As he was the constant companion and playmate 
of Mrs. Davis's children, he considered himself as 
one of them, adopting their views and sharing their 
prejudices. President Davis was to him the one 
great man in the world. Mrs. Davis had given him 
the kindly care of a mother, and he had for her the 
loving devotion of a child. 

His clothing consisted of a threadbare jacket and 
pants, much too small for him. He had no covering 
for his head, and he was barefooted. 

One of the ladies asked him if he had any more 
clothing. He held down his head, and said with a 
trembling voice : — 

" Her couldn't do any better," meaning Mrs. Davis ; 
" her hadn't any more to give me, for her hadn't any 



No. 26] A Colored Waif 105 

clothes for the other children. Bud," meaning Mrs. 
Davis's oldest boy, " wanted me to wear his cap, and 
he put it on my head, but her said him wanted it 
more'na me, and I must be a good boy till her send 
for me." 

He was very quick and active, and always alert. 
One day he heard some little darkies singing "We'll 
hang. Jeff Davis on a sour-apple tree." This was 
more than Jimmie could stand. He dashed into their 
gang, and waving his new straw hat, of which he 
was very proud, shouted, " Three cheers for President 
Jefferson Davis." At this the whole crowd was in 
commotion. They shouted " A rebel! a rebel! " and 
began to throw oyster-shells at him, and all wanted 
to fight. Jimmie backed up against the house, and 
told them to come on ; that " President Davis was 
no rebel, but a good gentleman who would whip the 
Yankees yet." 

General Saxton was informed of the fight going on 
amongst the pickaninnies, so he called James to him 
and questioned him about the affair. 

The boy bravely told him all that had happened, 
and angrily declared that if he were a man he would 
kill every one of them. 

General Saxton replied it was true General Davis 
had been his best friend, and he highly approved of 
his fidelity to him. But fighting for him was of no 
avail. He doubted if fighting ever helped anybody. 
He could love and honor President Davis, but it 
would be wiser at present to say nothing about him. 
Mrs. Davis had sent him here, and they meant to 
take care of him. 

The little fellow faltered out that — 

" Her didn't want to send me, sir, and her cry 



io6 Underground Railroad [no. 26 

when I come away." But after that he never men- 
tioned the name of Jefferson Davis, and was very 
unwilling to be questioned about him. 

General and Mrs. Saxton took him with them to 
Charleston, and while there he became very fond of 
his new protectors. But the vicissitudes of army hfe 
made it impossible for them to keep him, so he was 
sent to us to be taken North and placed where he 
could go to school. This was another great trial for 
the lad. 

When Mrs. Saxton told him he was to go to the 
plantation she said, " You will be very happy with 
the ladies." He tearfully replied, " I'll be more hap- 
pier with the general. I likes to wait on them I 
love." 

" He came to us in March, and soon settled down 
into regular duties in school, where he seemed very 
happy. One day he said, " Is to-day March .'* well, 
to-morrow will be deeper March, won't it } And then 
summer will come, and I shall see the general." He 
told me with evident pleasure of the presents offered 
General Saxton in Charleston. Then he said thought- 
fully, " God is a good man, ain't him } I think him 
and General Saxton two of the goodest men in the 
world." 

When it was explained to him that God was not a 
man, he seemed to reflect upon it for a time ; then he 
exclaimed, " Well, the general is most as good as 
him ! " 



No. 27] 



Contrabands 



107 



27. Contrabands 

By Charles Carleton Coffin (1866) 

During the march the next day towards the North 
Anna, I halted at a farm-house. The owner had fled 
to Richmond in advance of the army, leaving his 
overseer, a stout, burly, red-faced, tobacco-chewing 
man. There were a score of old buildings on the 
premises. It had been a notable plantation, yielding 
luxuriant harvests of wheat, but the proprietor had 
turned his attention to the culture of tobacco, and the 



This name, 
which strictly 
applies to 
arms and 
munitions of 
war, was 
given to the 
escaped ne- 
groes by 
General But- 
ler in 1861. 







'\ •■^■'c-^-*-^->-. 



CONTRABANDS. 

breeding of negroes. He sold annually a crop of 
human beings for the southern market. The day 
before our arrival, hearing that the Yankees were 
coming, he hurried forty or fifty souls to Richmond. 



io8 U?iderground Railroad [no. 27 

He intended to take all, — forty or fifty more, — but 
the negroes fled to the woods. The overseer did his 
best to collect them, but in vain. The proprietor 
raved, and stormed, and became violent in his lan- 
guage and behavior, threatening terrible punishment 
on all the runaways, but the appearance of a body of 
Union cavalry put an end to maledictions. He had 
a gang of men and women chained together, and 
hurried them toward Richmond. 

The runaways came out from their hiding-places 
when they saw the Yankees, and advanced fearlessly 
with open countenances. The first pleasure of the 
negroes was to smile from ear to ear, the second to 
give everybody a drink of water or a piece of hoe- 
cake, the third to pack up their bundles and be in 
readiness to join the army. 

" Are you not afraid of us .-• " 

" Afraid! Why, boss, I's been praying for yer to 
come ; and now yer is here, thank de Lord." 

" Are you not afraid that we shall sell you } " 

" No, boss, I isn't. The overseer said you would 
sell us off to Cuba, to work in the sugar-mill, but we 
didn't believe him." 

Among the servants was a bright mulatto girl, who 
was dancing, singing, and manifesting her joy in 
violent demonstration. 

" What makes you so happy .-' " I asked. 

" Because you Yankees have come. I can go home 
now." 

"Is not this your home .'' " 

" No. I come from WiUiamsport in Maryland." 

" When did you come from there } " 

" Last year. Master sold me. I spect my brother 
is 'long with the army. He ran away last year. 



No. 27J Contrabands 109 

Master was afraid that I should run away, and he 
sold me." 

The negroes came from all the surrounding planta- 
tions. Old men with venerable beards, horny hands, 
crippled with hard work and harder usage ; aged 
women, toothless, almost blind, steadying their steps 
with sticks ; little negro boys, driving a team of skele- 
ton steers, — mere, bones and tendons covered with 
hide, — or wall-eyed horses, spavined, foundered, and 
lame, attached to rickety carts and wagons, piled 
with beds, tables, chairs, pots and kettles, hens, 
turkeys, ducks, women with infants in their arms, and 
a sable cloud of children trotting by their side. 

" Where are you going } " I said to a short, thick- 
set, gray-bearded old man, shuffling along the road ; 
his toes bulging from his old boots, and a tattered 
straw hat on his head, — his gray wool protruding 
from the crown. 

"I do'no, boss, where I'se going, but I reckon I'll 
go where the army goes." 

" And leave your old home, your old master, and 
the place where you have lived all your days } " 

"Yes, boss ; master, he's gone. He went to Rich- 
mond. Reckon he went mighty sudden, boss, when 
he heard you was coming. Thought I'd like to go 
along with you." 

His face streamed with perspiration. He had been 
sorely afflicted with the rheumatism, and it was with 
difficulty that he kept up with the column ; but it was 
not a hard matter to read the emotions of his heart. 
He was marching towards freedom. Suddenly a light 
had shined upon him. Hope had quickened in his 
soul. He had a vague idea of what was before him. 
He had broken loose from all which he had been 



I I o Underground Railroad [Nq- 27 

accustomed to call his own,^ — his cabin, a mud- 
chinked structure, with the ground for a floor, his 
garden patch, — to go out, in his old age, wholly un- 
provided for, yet trusting in God that there would be 
food and raiment on the other side of Jordan. 

It was a Jordan to them. It was the Sabbath-day, 
— bright, clear, calm, and delightful. There was a 
crowd of several hundred colored people at a deserted 
farm-house. 

"Will it disturb you if we have a little singing.? 
You see we feel so happy to-day that we would like 
to praise the Lord." 

It was the request of a middle-aged woman. 

" Not in the least. I should like to hear you." 

In a few moments a crowd had assembled in one 
of the rooms. A stout young man, black, bright- 
eyed, thick-wooled, took the centre of the room. The 
women and girls, dressed in their best clothes, which 
they had put on to make their exodus from bondage 
in the best possible manner, stood, in circles round 
him. The young man began to dance. He jumped 
up, clapped his hands, slapped his thighs, whirled 
round, stamped upon the floor. 

" Sisters, let us bless the Lord. Sisters, join in 
the chorus," he said, and led off with a kind of 
recitative, improvised as the excitement gave him 
utterance. 

" We are going to the other side of Jordan, 

So glad ! so glad ! 
Bless the Lord for freedom. 

So glad ! so glad ! 
We are going on our way. 

So glad ! so glad ! 



No. 27] Contrabands 1 1 1 

To the other side of Jordan, 

So glad ! so glad ! 
Sisters, won't you follow ? 

So glad ! so glad ! 
Brothers, won't you follow? " 

And so it went on for a half-hour, without cessa- 
tion, all dancing, clapping their hands, tossing their 
heads. It was the ecstasy of action. It was a joy 
not to be uttered, but demonstrated. The old house 
partook of their rejoicing. It rang with their jubi- 
lant shouts, and shook in all its joints. 

It was late at night before the dancers ceased, and 
then they stopped, not because of a surfeit of joy, but 
because the time had come for silence in the camp. 
It was their first Sabbath of freedom, and like the 
great king of Israel, Tipon the recovery of the ark 
of God, they danced before the Lord with all their 
might. 

We had a hard, dusty ride from the encampment 
at Mongohick to the Pamunkey, and halted beneath 
the oaks, magnolias, and buttonwoods of an old 
Virginia mansion. 

When the war commenced, the owner of this mag- 
nificent estate enlisted in the army, and was made a 
colonel of cavalry. He furnished suppHes and kept 
open house for his comrades in arms ; but he fell 
in a cavalry engagement on the Rappahannock, in 
October, 1863, leaving a wife and three young chil- 
dren. The advance of the army, its sudden appear- 
ance on the Pamunkey, left his wife no time to 
remove her personal estate, or to send her negroes 
to Richmond for safe keeping. Fitz-Hugh Lee dis- 
puted Sheridan's advance. The fighting began on 



112 Underground Railroad [No. 27 

this estate. Charges by squadrons and regiments 
were made through the corn-fields. Horses, cattle, 
hogs, sheep, were seized by the cavalrymen. The 
garden, filled with young vegetables, was spoiled. In 
an hour there was complete desolation. The hundred 
negroes — cook, steward, chambermaid, house and 
field hands, old and young — all left their work and 
followed the army. 

Passing by one of the negro cabins on the estate, I 
saw a middle-aged colored woman packing a bundle. 

" Are you going to move V I asked. 

" Yes, sir; I am going to follow the army." 

" What for .-* Where will you go .■" " 

" I want to go to Washington, to find my husband. 
He ran away awhile ago, and is at work in Washing- 
ton." 

" Do you think it right, auntie, to leave your mis- 
tress, who has taken care of you so long } " 

She had been busy with her bundle, but stopped 
now and stood erect before me, her hands on her 
hips. Her black eyes flashed. 

" Taken care of me ! What did she ever do for 
me ? Haven't I been her cook for more than thirty 
years ? Haven't I cooked every meal she ever ate in 
that house .'' What has she done for me in return ? 
She has sold my children down South, one after an- 
other. She has whipped me when I cried for them. 
She has treated me like a hog, sir ! Yes, sir, like a 
hog ! " 



No. 28] Hjm?i of F?^eedo?n 



13 



28. Hymn of Freedom 

By Ralph Waldo Emerson (1863) 

The word of the Lord by night 
To the watching Pilgrims came, 
And they sat by the sea-side, 
And filled their hearts with flame. 

God said, — I am tired of Kings, 
I suffer them no more ; 
Up to my ear the morning brings 
The outrage of the poor. 

Think ye I made this ball 

A field of havoc and war. 

Where tyrants great and tyrants small 

Might harry the weak and poor .'* 

My angel, — his name is Freedom, — 
Choose him to be your king ; 
He shall cut pathways east and west, 
And fend you with his wing. 

Lo ! I uncover the land 
Which I hid of old time in the West, 
As the sculptor uncovers his statue, 
When he has wrought his best. 

I show Columbia, of the rocks 
Which dip their foot in the seas, 
And soar to the air-borne flocks 
Of clouds, and the boreal fleece. 

I will divide my goods ; 
Call in the wretch and slave : 
I 



Ralph Waldo 
Emerson, 
one of the 
greatest of 
American 
writers and 
thinkers, was 
never an abo- 
litionist; but 
is a good 
type of the 
anti-slavery 
man who 
hated the 
system, with- 
out clearly 
seeing how 
to be rid of it. 



114 Underground Railroad [no. 28 

None shall rule but the humble, 
And none but toil shall have. 

1 will have never a noble, 

No lineage counted great : 

Fishers and choppers and ploughmen 

Shall constitute a State. 

Go, cut down trees in the forest, 
And trim the straightest boughs ; 
Cut down trees in the forest, 
And build me a wooden house. 

Call the people together, 
The young men and the sires. 
The digger in the harvest-field. 
Hireling and him that hires. 

And here in a pine State-house 
They shall choose men to rule 
In every needful faculty, — 
In church and state and school. 

Lo, now ! if these poor men 

Can govern the land and sea. 

And make just laws below the sun, — 

As planets faithful be. 

And ye shall succor men ; 

'Tis nobleness to serve ; 

Help them who cannot help again ; 

Beware from right to swerve. 

I break your bonds and masterships, 
And I unchain the slave : 
Free be his heart and hand henceforth, 
As wind and wandering wave. 



•No. 28] Hymn of F?'eedom 115 

I cause from every creature 
His proper good to flow : 
So much as he is and doeth, 
So much he shall bestow. 

But, laying his hands on another 
To coin his labor and sweat, 
He goes in pawn to his victim 
For eternal years in debt. 

Pay ransom to the owner, 

And fill the bag to the brim ! 

Who is the owner .' The slave is owner, 

And ever was. Pay liiui ! 

O North ! give him beauty for rags, 
And honor, O South ! for his shame; 
Nevada ! coin thy golden crags 
With Freedom's image and name. 

Up ! and the dusky race 
That sat in darkness long, — 
Be swift their feet as antelopes. 
And as behemoth strong. 

Come East and West and North, 
By races, as snow-flakes. 
And carry My purpose forth, 
Which neither halts nor shakes. 

My will fulfilled shall be. 
For, in daylight or in dark. 
My thunderbolt has eyes to see 
His wav home to the mark. 















'^ 


W< 


f 1 


^ « 


m 




rl 




r-1 


Piw— - 


d 



PART III 
IN AND OUT OF THE ARMY 



29. Our Country's Call 

By William Cullen Bryant (1861) 

Lay down the axe, fling by the spade : 

Leave in its track the toiling plough ; 
The rifle and the bayonet-blade 

For arms like yours were fitter now ; 
And let the hands that ply the pen 

Quit the light task, and learn to wield 
The horseman's crooked brand, and rein 

The charger on the battle-field. 

Our country calls ; away ! away ! 

To where the blood-stream blots the green. 
Strike to defend the gentlest sway 

That Time in all his course has seen. 
See, froni a thousand coverts — see 

Spring the armed foes that haunt her track 
They rush to smite her down, and we 

Must beat the banded traitors back. 

Ho ! sturdy as the oaks ye cleave. 
And moved as soon to fear and flight, 

Men of the glade and forest ! leave 
Your woodcraft for the field of fight. 
117 



People now- 
a-days do not 
realize the 
enthusiasm 
with which 
people went 
into the Civil 
War. Mr. 
Bryant, jour- 
nalist and 
poet, was one 
of many to 
arouse their 
countrymen 
with their 
most glowing 
thoughts. 



I I 8 hi and Out of the Ar^ny [no. 29 

The arms that wield the axe must pour 

An iron tempest on the foe ; 
His serried ranks shall reel before 

The arm that lays the panther low. 

And ye who breast the mountain storm 

By grassy steep or highland lake, 
Come, for the land ye love, to form 

A bulwark that no foe can break. 
Stand, Hke your own gray cliffs that mock 

The whirlwind ; stand in her defence : 
The blast as soon shall move the rock 

As rushing squadrons bear ye thence. 

And ye, whose homes are by her grand 

Swift rivers, rising far away, 
Come from the depth of her green land 

As mighty in your march as they ; 
As terrible as when the rains 

Have swelled them over bank and bourne, 
With sudden floods to drown the plains 

And sweep along the woods uptorn. 

And ye who throng, beside the deep, 

Her ports and hamlets of the strand. 
In number Hke the waves that leap 

On his long murmuring marge of sand. 
Come, like that deep, when, o'er his brim, 

He rises, all his floods to pour, 
And flings the proudest barks that swim, 

A helpless wreck against his shore. 

Few, few were they whose swords, of old. 
Won the fair land in which we dwell ; 

But we are many, we who hold 
The grim resolve to guard it well. 



No. 30] Our Countjy s Call 119 

Strike for that broad and goodly land, 
Blow after blow, till men shall see 

That Might and Right move hand in hand. 
And glorious must their triumph be. 



30. Camp Life 

By James Kendall Hosmer (1862) 

Nov. 23, 1862. I propose to keep a diary of my Mr. Hosmer, 
soldiering, and am now making my first entry. Brother 
Ed and I are going to the war together. He is nine- 
teen, and leaves a clerk's desk in an insurance-office. ^^''■°'^ several 
I am older, and leave a minister's study. It is the te°i°uIboth^ 
Fifty-second Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, howthesoi- 
I am in our little tent at Camp N. P. Banks, not far ^ndtho'u'lht 
from Jamaica, in Long Island. The tent is perhaps and why he' 
eight feet square, and meant for seven soldiers. A ^^ '"*° '^^ 
leg of ham partly devoured, with gnawed loaves of 
bread and some tin cups, lie just at my right foot. 
Corporal Buffum, six feet and two or three inches 
tall, is writing home, just at the other foot. Joseph 
McGill is sleeping, wrapped up in his rubber blanket. 
The floor of the tent, at the sides, is covered with 
knapsacks, blankets, and soldiers' furniture. Sillo- 
way, a black-whiskered, fine-looking soldier, put his 
head in, but, to my relief, does not enter; for where 
could I put him while I write .-• 

We left Camp Miller, where the Fifty-second organ- 
ized, two or three days ago. For the first time, the 
knapsacks, full-loaded, were packed on, the canteens 
were filled, the haversacks were crammed with two 
days' rations. It was a heavy load as we set off in 



as a soldier 
bearing his 
musket, 



I 2 o In and Out of the Army [No. 30 

a cojd November rain, nearly a thousand of us. It 
rained harder and harder : but Greenfield streets 
were filled with people ; and the nearer we came to 
the depot, the thicker the crowd. Then came the 
last parting and hand-shaking : eyes were full, and 
lips on a tremble. 

At midnight we reached New Haven. Ed had been 
on guard at the car-door in the drizzle, and now came 
off duty. We trundled on to the steamboat-wharf, 
climbed out, and formed in two fines ; many of the 
boys turned round for their first sight and sniff at 
salt-water. The Traveller was at hand, aboard which, 
rank after rank, we marched, — on top, between decks, 
into cabin below, and saloon above. 

The morning was gray and wet. It poured as we 
stood on the forward deck ; but my rubber blanket shed 
the rain, and my havelock, of the same material, kept 
it off head and neck. On upper deck and lower deck, 
and through every window, one could see the crowding 
hundreds, — curious faces, bearded and smooth ; drip- 
ping blankets and caps ; the white string of the can- 
teen crossing the band of the haversack upon the 
breast. Stout fellows they were, almost all ; the 
pick, for spirit and strength, of two counties. 

Past great ships, past iron-clads fitting out at the 
Novelty Works, past the Navy Yard, now down 
between the two great cities and around the Battery, 
and stop at a North-river pier, — haversack on one 
shoulder, canteen on the other we go. " Now, Silas 
Dibble, hook on my knapsack, and I will hook on 
yours ; " a rubber blanket is over all ; then comes a 
helmet, with the long flap down on the shoulders. 
The march begins. Dirty and hungry we go through 
the muddy streets. 



No. 30] Camp Life 121 

We tramp in over the old Union race-track at 
length, upon the enclosed grassy space, and are at 
our camp-ground. It is dreary, dismal, miserable. 
There are no overcoats; we are all perspiration with 
our march under the burden and there's no chance 
for tea or coffee, or any thing warm : it is a sorry 
prospect, boys, for comfort to-night. But never mind. 
Behold how the Yankee will vindicate himself in the 
face of the worst fortune ! Fences are stripped of 
rails ; and we have blazing fires in no time, which 
make the inhospitable, leaden sky speedily blush for 
itself. Rubber blankets are tacked together, and 
tents extemporized. Corporal Buffum, Ed, and I, 
strike a solemn league. We find two sticks and a 
long rail. We drive the sticks into the ground for 
uprights, then lay the rail on top. Buffum and I tack 
our blankets together with strings through the eyelet- 
holes. We place the joining along the cross-timber, 
letting the blankets slope away, roof-fashion, on each 
side toward the ground, fastening them at the edges 
with pegs, and strings straining them tight. Then we 
spread Ed's rubber on the ground underneath, put our 
luggage at one end, and crowd in to try the effect. We 
have to pack in tight, big Buffum and Ed not leaving 
much room for me ; but the closer the better. The 
north-wind blows, and the air threatens snow. We 
survey our wigwam with great admiration. I lie 
down for the night with revolver and dirk strapped 
one on each side, unwashed, bedraggled, and armed 
like Jack Sheppard himself. We freeze along through 
the hours. We get into one another's arms to keep 
warm as we can, and shiver through till daylight. 

When morning comes, all is confusion. The regi- 
ment looks as if it had rained down. It is clear, but 



12 2 In atid Out of the Army [no. 30 

raw. There is no chance to wash now, nor all day 
long. Our tents come. We pitch them in long rows, 
well ordered ; floor them from fences near by ; and 
carpet them with straw and marsh hay. Six or 
seven of us pack in here like sardines in a box, lying 
on our sides, "spoon-fashion." 

Our guns were issued to us the other day ; and are 
beautiful pieces, of the most improved pattern, — the 




'^c^;^. wA-i^fc".. .--\:: ■' , V z::^ -r ■^:- -.,,7"<fs^ 

^- - ■ ^ ' ■■■'•2.. " ^''■''nV V '""'.-.■^^ .-^^ 



CAMP SCENE. 



Springfield rifled musket of 1862. Mine is behind me 
now, dark black-walnut stock, well oiled, so that the 
beauty of the wood is brought out, hollowed at the 
base, and smoothly fitted with steel, to correspond 
exactly to the curve of the shoulder, against which 
I shall have to press it many and many a time. The 
spring of the lock is just stiff and just limber enough; 
the eagle and stamp of the Government are pressed 



No. 30] Camp L^ije 123 

into the steel plate ; the barrel is long and glistening, 
and so bright, that when I present arms, and bring it 
before my face, I can see nose and spectacles and the 
heavy beard on lip and chin, which already the camp 
is beginning to develop. Then there is the bayonet, 
straight and tapering, smooth to the finger as a surface 
of glass, and coming to a point sharp as a needle. 

We have dress-parades now ; and, the other after- 
noon, I was a spectator instead of taking part. The 
Fifty-second is formed four deep. I have often seen 
them in line at Camp Miller ; but now we have our 
arms, and look more like soldiers. They are still as 
men can be at the parade rest. Now, from the right 
flank, come marching the drums down the line ; slow 
time ; every eye to the front ; the colonel, hand upon 
sword-hilt, facing them all, — tall, straight, soldierly, 
his silver eagles on each shoulder. The drums have 
reached the end of the Hne, and turn. First comes a 
long, brisk roll, thrice repeated ; then back along the 
line with quicker time and step, round the right flank 
again, past the adjutant; the thrice-repeated roll again 
sounding muffled, as it comes to me through the now 
intervening line of men, — a peculiar throb, as if it 
were inside of the head. It is the adjutant's turn. 
He is at his place in front of the hne. " First ser- 
geants to the front and centre ! " Ten soldiers, straight, 
sash at waist, march forward, and, one by one, report. 
It is Ed's turn now, tall, fine, bright-eyed soldier that 
he is. His gloved hand gives the salute ; and I hear 
him, through the music of other regiments, " Fourth 
company all present or accounted for." Buttoned up 
to the chin he is, in his dress-coat ; his sash, with 
bright revolver belt, outside ; his gun at his shoulder 
with true martial poise. " First sergeants to your 



124 ^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ of the Army [No. 30 

posts! " It is the turn of the commissioned officers. 
They step out to the front, in full-dress uniform, a fine- 
looking row of men ; then march forward, with brave, 
unanimous step, in a brilliant, glittering line. It is 
over, and visitors near step up to me to inquire about 
the regiment. I feel proud of the men, proud of the 
colonel, proud of the brilliant officers who have marched 
forward to salute in concert, — the white-gloved hands 
simultaneously at the visor. Back go the companies 
into the streets of the camp, under the first sergeants. 
I am proud to see how Ed gets his company by the 
flank, and promptly manoeuvres them. 

We have had a flag presented to us ; but it is too 
splendid and heavy for actual service. Our real flag, 
for service, is more modest, and yet handsome ; of 
silk, floating from a staff of ash with the name of the 
regiment printed in gold upon one of the crimson 
stripes. As the wind comes off the bay to us at 
battalion-drill, the heavy silk brushes my cheek. 
We shall know each other well during these coming 
months. I take off my bayonet, and invert it, that it 
may not wound the flag it is to defend. We have also 
the white flag of Massachusetts, the Indian and up- 
lifted sword upon a snowy field ; plain enough, when 
the breeze smooths it out, for the senior captain to 
see from his post on the right flank, and Sergeant 
Jones, right general guide, whose post is still farther 
off. When drill is over, we must guard our charge to 
the colonel's tent, roll the crimson and azure folds 
carefully about the staff, and put them under shelter ; 
then our day's work is done. 



No. 31 J 0;/ the 11^ ay 125 

31. On the Way to War 

By James Kendall Hosmer (1832) 

Camp down, soldiers, where you can ! This cabin 
is stripped of furniture and carpet : a mirror and the 
white paint are the only things to remind one of the 
old elegance of the packet. I glance at the glass as 
we crowd in. Which am I among the bearded, blue- 
coated, hustling men } I hardly know myself, sun- 
burnt and muddied ; the " 52," on the cap top, shows 
out in the lantern light. Sergeant Warriner, of Com- 
pany A, a gentlemanly fellow, left guide, whose elbow 
rubs mine at battalion-drill, offers me a place in a 
bunk he has found empty in one of the staterooms. 
Bias Dickinson, my wise and jovial file-leader, bunks 
over me. There is room for another : so I go out to 
where McGill is wedged into the crowing mass, and 
extract him as I would a tooth. Gradually the hubbub 
is quelled. The mass of men, like a river seeking its 
level, flows into bunk and stateroom, cabin and galley. 
Then the floors are covered, and a few miserable ones 
hold on to banisters and table-legs, and at last the 
regiment drops into an uncomfortable sleep. 

We woke up the morning after we came aboard, — 
Warriner, Bias, and I. Company D woke up generally 
on the cabin-floor. Poor Companies H and F woke 
up down in the hold. What were we to do for break- 
fast .'' Through the hatchway opposite our stateroom- 
door, we could see the waiters in the lower cabin set- 
ting tables for the commissioned officers. Presently 
there was a steam of coffee and steaks ; then a long 
row of shoulder-sttaps, and a clatter of knives and 



missioned 
officers. 



126 /// a?id Out of the A?y}iy lno. 31 

forks ; we, meanwhile, breakfastless, were undergoing 
the torments of Tantalus. 

But we cannot make out a very strong case of hard- 
ship. Beef, hard-bread, and coffee were soon ready. 
Bill Hilson, in a marvellous cap of pink and blue, cut 
Non-com- up the big joints on a gun-box. The non-coms, whose 
chevrons take them past the guard amidships, went 
out loaded with the tin cu^s of the men to Henry 
Hilson, — out through cabin-door, through greasy, 
crowded passage-way, behind the wheel, to the galley, 
where, over a mammoth, steaming caldron, Henry, 
through the vapor, pours out coffee by the pailful. 
He looks like a beneficent genius. 

I have been down the brass-plated staircase, into 
the splendors of the commissioned-officers' cabin, — 
really nothing great at all, but luxurious as compared 
with our quarters, already greasy from rations, and 
stained with tobacco-juice, and sumptuous beyond 
words, as compared with the unplaned boards and 
tarry odors of the quarters of the privates. Have I 
mentioned that now our places are assigned .■* The 
non-coms — that is non-commissioned, have assigned 
to them an upper cabin, with staterooms, oyer the 
quarters of the officers, in the after-part of the ship. 
The privates are in front, on the lower decks, and in 
the hold. Now I speak of the cabin of the officers. 
The hatches are open above and below, to the upper 
deck and into the hold. Down the hatch goes a dirty 
stream of commissary-stores, gun-carriages, rifled-can- 
non, and pressed hay, within an inch or two of cut- 
glass, gilt-mouldings, and mahogany. The third mate, 
with voice coarse and deep as the grating of heavy 
fenderThun^^ packages along the skids, orders this and that, or bays 
overavessei's inarticulately in a growl at a shirking sailor. 



No. 31] On the Way 127 

Five sergeants of our company, and two corporals side to pro- 
of us, have a stateroom tosrether, — perhaps six feet J^'^^ " '" 

T-i • 1 rr 1 • 1 handling 

by eight. Besides us, two officers servants consider cargo. 
that they have a right here. 

Each man now has his place for the voyage as- 
signed him : so, if you can cHmb well, let us go down, 
and see the men below. It is right through the damp, 
crowded passage at the side of the paddle-wheel first. 
Here is a fence and a gate, impervious to the private ; 
but in his badge the corporal possesses the potent 
golden bough which gains him ingress through here 
into Hades. Just amidships, we go in through a 
door from the upper deck. This first large space is 
the hospital ; already with thirty or forty in its rough, 
unplaned bunks. From this, what is half-stairway 
and half-ladder leads down the hatch. A lantern is 
burning here ; and we see that the whole space be- 
tween decks, not very great, is filled with bunks, — 
three rows of them between floor and ceiling, — 
stretching away into darkness on every hand, with 
two-feet passages winding among them. 

I hear the salutes of men, but cannot see their faces ; 
for it is beyond the utmost efforts of the little lantern 
to show them up. Presently I go on through the 
narrow passage, with populous bunks, humming with 
men, on each side, — three layers between deck and 
deck. I can only hear them, and once in a while 
dimly see a face. At length we come to a raiUng, 
over which we climb, and descend another ladder, into 
regions still darker, — submarine, I believe, or, at any 
rate, on a level with the sea. Here swings another 
lantern. Up overhead, through deck after deck, is a 
skylight, which admits light, and wet too, from above. 
It is like looking from the bottom of a well. 



12 8 In and Out of the A?^my [no. 31 

As above, so here again, there are three tiers of 
bunks, with the narrow passages among them. The 
men He side by side, with but two feet or so of space ; 
but are in good spirits, though sepulchred after this 
fashion. The air seems not bad. It is dark in the 
day-time, except right under the skyHght. A fortnight 
or so from now, a poor, emaciated crowd, I fear, it 
will be proceeding from these lower deeps of the 
Illinois. I go back with an uneasy conscience to our 
six feet by eight up above, so infinitely preferable 
to these quarters of the privates, though five big ser- 
geants with their luggage share it with me, and two 
waiters have no other home ; so that we overflow 
through door and window, on to the deck and floor 
outside. 

Ed and I turn in at half-past eight, lying on our 
sides, and interrupting one another's sleep with, "Look 
out for your elbow ! " "I am going over the edge ! " 
"You will press me through into the Company C 
bunks ! " This morning I took breakfast in the berth, 
— dining-room, study, and parlor, as well. There is 
room enough, sitting Turk-fashion, and bending over. 

" Sail to-day ! " That has been the morning song 
aboard the Illinois ever since the Fifty-second piled it- 
self into its darknesses. It was so Saturday, Sunday, and 
Monday. We came to believe it did not mean any 
thing : so, Tuesday morning being fair, Buffum and I 
got permission to go ashore, smiling at the superb 
joke of the ofificer when he warned us to be back in a 
couple of hours, for we surely sail to-day. But when 
we come aboard again, the anchor was really up ; and 
the Illinois, no longer twirled by the tide about its 
thumbs, began to show a will of its own, and was 
soon moving seaward with its deeply burdened bosom 



No. 31] On the Way 129 

and swarming decks. Our orders were sealed, and 
the colonel could not open them until twenty-four 
hours after sailing. We could not know, then, until 
the morrow, whither the wheels, the tide, and the 
strong stern-wind, were bearing us ; but the prow was 
southward, and the Fifty-second was content. Distance 
washes the spire of Trinity out of the northern sky ; 
the Narrows, grim with forts and prisons, now grow 
narrower ; and soon Sandy Hook, the beckoning 
finger which the old Navesink hills fling out for ever 
to invite inbound ships, lets us slide past its curving 
knuckle fairly out to sea. All goes well, with no 
motion but the throb of the engine. They light the 
lanterns on the wheel-house and in the fore-top ; they 
light them between-decks, swinging gently while a 
soldier reads his Testament, or a party play cards. 

I resolve I will try anight with the men in the hold. 
Elnathan Gunn, the old soldier, invites me to share 
his bed and board. Life on a transport becomes so 
simplified, that bed and board become one ; the 
soldier softening his plank with his haversack of beef 
and biscuit for a mattress and pillow. 

'Tis half-past eight at night as I climb down in night 
rig, — blouse and knit cap, with round button at the top, 
like Charles Lamb's great Panjandrum himself. It is 
comfortable ; but Ed's fraternal partiality turns to dis- 
gust whenever I put it on. I stoop low, — it is the 
lowest tier of bunks, — climb over two prostrate men, 
then lie down sandwiched helplessly between two 
slices of timber above and below, where I go to sleep 
among the raw-head and bloody-bone stories of Elna- 
than Gunn. I wake up at midnight hot and stifled, 
as if I were in a mine caved in. " Gunn, give me my 
boots ! " Gunn fishes them out of some hole in the 



Charles S. 
Halpine. 



130 In a?id Out of the Army [no. 32 

dark. I tug at the straps, half stifled, bump my head 
as I rise, grovel on my stomach out over two or three 
snorers, and hurry through the dark for the upper 
deck, thankful that, being corporal, I can have quarters 
where I can see and breathe ; through the cabin, 
over slumbering drums and drummers, — for the 
music, too, is privileged to remain above, — then in 
by the side of Ed. We heard, at noon, we were bound 
for Ship Island ; and, while I am hoping for plenty 
of air and good weather the rest of the voyage, down 
shut the eyelids, and consciousness is guillotined for 
the night. 



32. Song of the Soldiers 

By Private Miles O'Reilly (1862) 

Comrades known in marches many, 
Comrades, tried in dangers many. 
Comrades, bound by memories many, 

Brothers ever let us be. 
Wounds or sickness may divide us, 
Marching orders may divide us. 
But, whatever fate betide us, 

Brothers of the heart are we. 

Comrades, known by faith the clearest. 
Tried when death was near and nearest, 
Bound we are by ties the dearest. 

Brothers evermore to be. 
And, if spared, and growing older, 
Shoulder still in line with shoulder. 
And with hearts no thrill the colder, 

Brothers ever we shall be. 



No. 33] A Guerilla Chief 

By communion of the banner, — 
Crimson, white, and starry banner, - 
By the baptism of the banner. 

Children of one Church are we. 
Creed nor faction can divide us, 
Race nor language can divide us, 
Still, whatever fate betide us. 

Children of the Flag are we ! 



33. A Guerilla Chief 

By B. Estvan (1862) 

Nashville was as good as lost ; on the day fol- 
lowing the arrival of General Albert and Sidney John- 
ston he was obliged to fall back on Murfreesborough. 
A scandalous scene now took place at Nashville, 
not easily paralleled in modern history. General 
Johnston, with the object of getting away with his 
troops unperceived, had quietly marched out in the 
night from that town. This sudden and unexpected 
departure created great consternation and confusion 
amongst the inhabitants ; the tumult reached its cli- 
max when Governor Harris galloped through the 
streets announcing that the enemy was at hand, and 
that every man who was capable of doing so should 
save himself by flight. All the offices, courts of jus- 
tice, house of legislature, where the members were 
holding a session, broke up ; the whole population, in 
fact, was in a state of the most feverish excitement, 
and every one prepared to leave the town. The 
members of the State Government, and others high 
in office, were the first to take to flight. The hasty 



Colonel 
Estvan was 
an English 
officer. 



132 In and Out of the Army [no. 33 

departure of the members of the Government to Mem- 
phis, and the retreat of General Johnston to Mur- 
freesborough, added to the fear that the enemy would 
make reprisals, caused almost as great a panic as if 
an earthquake had taken place. Women and chil- 
dren ran wailing through the streets. Trunks, boxes, 
and furniture were thrown out of the windows, and 
lay scattered about the pavement. It was as if the 
whole population had gone stark mad. Every one 
was shouting and running about not knowing where- 
fore. In the midst of this scramble and hubbub a 
shout suddenly arose. " The enemy ; the enemy is 
coming ! " 

On the heights above the town a body of troops 
was really in sight. They advanced slowly and cau- 
tiously, and entered the town. But these were no 
hostile troops ; the newcomers proved to be Floyd 
with the remnants of his brigade. As cautious as an 
old fox who feared his snare, he made his approach. 
The noise and confusion, and the number of persons 
taking to flight had arrested his attention, and dic- 
tated prudence. As soon as it was known in the town 
that the troops which had entered were not those of 
the enemy, but Confederates, with the brave General 
Floyd at their head, the despair of the population was 
turned into the most ridiculous rejoicing. The Con- 
federates were welcomed as victors ; provisions and 
wine were brought out for their use ; children danced 
in the streets, and many of the inhabitants, who had 
returned to the town, gathered round them to implore 
their protection. 

When the soldiers, after having refreshed them- 
selves with the good things laid before them, began 
to saddle their horses to proceed farther on their 



No. 33] A Guerilla Chief 133 

march, the astounded population discovered that 

these were not troops sent to protect the town, but 

that they were men who, themselves, were escaping 

from the enemy. Fort Donelson had fallen, and the Fort Donei- 

enemy was advancing in great force on Nashville. ^°"' °" *^^ , 

-r^ 1 • T-i 1 1 , . Cumberland 

Deep curses were uttered agamst Floyd and his men. River, was 
and the population sought to make up for the time captured by 
they had lost. ' The rabble of the town, who only Gram.* 
awaited an opportune moment, now began the work of 
plunder and robbery. All the shops that contained 
food or drink were broken into ; a regular scene of 
looting ensued. Women and children, laden with 
stolen goods, were running about in all directions, 
and gangs of drunken scoundrels rolled about the 
deserted streets. The black population streamed 
into the town to have their share in the general pil- 
lage, and, though more than one had his brains 
knocked out for his pains, many had the opportunity 
of making a large booty. Several adherents of the 
Union, who resided at Nashville, were in imminent 
danger of their lives, as they dreaded an attack from 
the mob. Millions of dollars worth of goods were 
clestroyed or carried off during the night; and the 
stock of provisions which the Confederates had for 
months stored up here was sacrificed. In fact the 
total destruction of Nashville was imminent, if the 
Federal troops did not soon make their appearance 
to save it from so deplorable a fate. 

In the night the news spread that the enemy's 
troops had arrived outside Nashville. All the peace- 
ful citizens who had remained in the town looked 
anxiously forward for their entrance. Pistol shots 
were heard, and a detachment of United States dra- 
goons galloped into the town, sabring right and left 



134 ^^^ ^^^^^ Out of the Army [no. 33 

all whom they met in the streets. The rioters and 
pillagers fled in every direction, leaving the town in 
the possession of the troops and of the honest citi- 
zens who had not fled. A few hours afterward, large 
bodies of troops under General Grant entered Nash- 
ville, and soon restored order and tranquillity. With 
astonishment the Federal troops must have looked at 
the closed country houses and villas, which seemed 
quite deserted, and betrayed no sign of life within their 
walls : the owners had fled with the retiring troops of 
Floyd. While the Federal troops took quiet posses- 
sion of Nashville, the partisans of the Confederates 
on the other bank were preparing for resistance, 
under the leadership of John Morgan, a man who 
had rendered himself famous by his extraordinary 
feats of daring. 

Of vulgar extraction and of no education, but gifted 
with extraordinary courage and self-possession, John 
Morgan had formed a body of men of his own stamp, 
who preferred fighting, and the hardships of a roving 
life, to any peaceful occupation. His band roamed 
about the country with such audacity as to become a 
perfect dread to the enemy. Scarcely a day passed 
without some daring act being recorded of John Mor- 
gan and his horsemen. Although he and his band 
belonged, properly speaking, to General Hardee's 
division, and his duty was to watch the enemy's move- 
ments, he much preferred doing a little business on 
his own account. 

One day he proposed to his men to make a raid 
upon the little town of Gallatin, twenty miles north 
of Nashville, then occupied by the enemy. The very 
idea of such an expedition created a joyful excitement 
amongst his desperate followers, and like lightning 



No. 33] A Guerilla Chief 135 

they fell upon the town and took possession of it. 
Whilst his men were robbing and plundering to their 
heart's content, Captain Morgan proceeded to the 
office of the telegraph in the expectation of finding 
important despatches there. The official on duty 
had not the slightest idea of what was going on in 
the town, and when Captain Morgan asked him with 
great politeness what news he had received, the agent 
took him for an officer of the United States army, 
and replied, " Nothing particular ; but inquiries are 
being made continually respecting that rebel bandit, 
Morgan. But if he should ever come across my path 
I have pills enough to satisfy him ! " pulling out his 
re\'X)lver as he said this, and flourishing it in the air 
before he thrust it back into his belt. As soon as he 
had finished, the strange officer thundered forth, 
" You are speaking to Captain Morgan ; I am Mor- 
gan, you miserable wretch." The poor official sank 
on his knees, and with the fear of death full upon 
him, sued for mercy. " I will not hurt you," retorted 
Morgan, " but send off this despatch at once to Pren- 
tice, the editor of the Louisville Journal. 

" Mr. Prentice — As I learn at this telegraph of- 
fice that you intend to proceed to Nashville, perhaps 
you will allow me to escort you there at the head of 
my band } 

"John Morgan." 

After sending off this friendly invitation, Morgan 
hastened to the railway station to see the train come 
in. In a few minutes it came up, upon which Cap- 
tain Morgan ordered one of his men, with pistol in 
hand, to take charge of the engine driver, whilst he 
examined the carriages, and proceeded to take five 



136 In and Out of the Ar??iy [no. 33 

officers prisoners. He then had all the cars set on 
fire, and filling the engine with turpentine, tow, and 
other inflammable matter, stopped up the vents, and 
sent it back on fire at full speed toward Nashville. 
The engine, however, exploded, after going a few 
hundred yards. After this exploit, Morgan and his 
men, with their prisoners, remounted their horses and 
gained the camp in safety, where they were enthusi- 
astically welcomed by their comrades. 

On another occasion he surprised a picket of six 
Federal soldiers, and made them prisoners. He was 
quite alone. On coming across them he went straight 
up to the corporal in command, and, passing himself 
off as a Federal officer, expressed his indignation at 
their slovenly appearance, and ordered them to lay 
down their muskets, and regard themselves as under 
arrest. The order was obeyed ; but when the men 
saw that he was taking them in a contrary direction, 
they observed that they were going the wrong road. 
" Not so," he retorted ; " I am Captain Morgan, and 
know best what road you have to take." These little 
adventures, amongst many of a similar nature, made 
his name well known, and acquired for him a wide- 
spread popularity. 



34. Off for the Front 

By George F. Noves (1862) 

M'DowELL is marshalling his cohorts at Fredericks- 
burg, being ordered to aid the peninsula approaches 
of M'Clellanby moving upon Richmond; and to-day, 
May 22nd, 1862, our brigade is detached from the 
army defending Washington, and is off to join him. 



No. 34] ^ff fo^ ^^^^ Front 137 

Never was summons more welcome. Tired of serv- 
ing the country under the shadow of the Capitol, with 
all the glow of untried enthusiasm and all the igno- 
rance of novices of war, our staff had really begun to 
fear lest the fighting would all be over before we could 
draw our maiden swords. Hope paints few brighter 
visions than those which on this day of embarkation 
made us happy; and now, as we gallop down to the 
wharf, every cheek burns with pleasant anticipations. 




A BAGGAtiE WAGON. 



As I gaze through the vista of our actual experiences, 
at that hour of hope and anticipated victory, this day 
seems to me like a dream. 

To get our horses safely on board the steamer is no 
easy task, for wharf and deck are lumbered up with 
all the paraphernalia of a campaign, and squads of 
heavily-knapsacked men are still hurrying on board, 
all jubilant and some quite intoxicated with patriotism 
and poor whiskey. 



138 In and Out of the Aj-^my [no. 34 

Among our troops all ages are represented : here, 
a beardless boy, his brow yet warm with the parental 
blessing, and next him, perhaps, a gray-haired man, 
for whom a comfortable home and a warm chimney 
corner seem far more fitting than the long march and 
bivouac of the campaign. But these are the days 
when the popular enthusiasm is still at high tide, sub- 
merging town and country, city and hamlet, and in- 
citing young and old, sick and poor, to rally round the 
old flag. If there is any homesickness beneath these 
blue uniforms, it cannot long resist the influx of the 
general enthusiasm : it is soon fused and lost in the 
general hopefulness and joy. " On to Richmond " is 
the watchword. You may read it in every eye about 
you. 

As we stand a while on the upper deck, cast your 
eye at the stalwart private near us, that you may know 
how a soldier looks in full war rig. The square 
knapsack on his back is crowned with a great roll of 
blankets, and contains his entire wardrobe — a change 
of clothes, a few toilet articles, probably a little Bible, 
and certainly a keepsake or two from the loved ones 
at home ; his cartridge box, strapped beneath, holds 
only a few rounds of ball cartridge : as no battle is 
impending, his shoulders are festooned with his shel- 
ter tent, an oblong piece of thick cotton cloth, com- 
pressed into a roll ; his haversack is stuffed with three 
days' marching rations ; his water canteen dangles at 
the other side, while his musket is stacked with the 
rest in the centre of the deck. 

Thus he carries his food, and drink, and clothing, 
and canvas house, and weapon with him ; he may 
be said, indeed, to be quite independent of society. 
Musket and all, his equipment weighs sixty pounds. 



Doodle." 



No.' 35] The Innocent Deserter 139 

and with it he can safely march from fifteen to twenty- 
miles a day. 

The sergeants have picked up the last straggler and 
marched him on board, the last horse is disposed of, 
and we are finally off. Taking in tow several trans- 
ports crowded with men, horses and government 
stores, gradually we gather way, cheer after cheer 
rings out from the crowded wharf, responded to lustily 
by our upper deck, the band strikes up "Dixie," and "Dixie," the 
so we say farewell to Washington, and glide slowly Confederate 

•^ . t> ' to J substitute for 

down the river. In less than thirty days we expect "Yankee 
to be in Richmond, and fighting is as yet a myth we 
cannot fully realize ; we are simply embarked on a 
military pleasure excursion. The day is very charm- 
ing, and the beautiful Potomac seems disposed to ten- 
der us a most hearty and pleasant welcome. 



35. The Innocent Deserter 

By John Esten Cooke (1862) 

I WAS sitting on my horse near General Stuart, who Cooke was a 

had put in the skirmishers, and was now superintend- Confederate 

ing the fire of his artillery, when a cavalry-man rode j. e. b. stu- 

up and reported that they had iust captured a ^'"' (com- 

, ^ ^ J r monly called 

deserter. •■jeb")was 

the most 



men. 



" Where is he .-' " was Stuart's brief interrogatory. 

., r^ • 1 r^ 1 ,, dashing of 

Coming yonder, General. ,he Confed- 

" How do you know he is a deserter .-' " erate cavairy- 

" One of my company knew him when he joined 
our army." 

" Where is he from .'' " 
" Anglaize county." 



140 /;/ a?id Out of the Army [No. 35 

" What is his name ? " 

"Morton." 

" Bring him up," said Stuart coldly, with a lower- 
ing glance from the blue eyes under the brown hat 
and black feather. As he spoke, two or three 
mounted men rode up with the prisoner. 

I can see him at this moment with the mind's eye, 
as I saw him then with the material eye. He was a 
young man, apparently eighteen or nineteen years of 
age, and wore the blue uniform, tipped with red, of a 
private in the United States Artillery. The singular 
fact was that he appeared completely at his ease. 
He seemed to be wholly unconscious of the critical 
position which he occupied ; and as he approached, I 
observed that he returned the dark glance of Stuart 
with the air of a man who says, " What do you find 
in my appearance to make you iix your eyes upon me 
so intently ! " In another moment he was in Stuart's 
presence, and calmly, quietly, without the faintest 
exhibition of embarrassment, or any emotion what- 
ever, waited to be addressed. 

Stuart's words were curtest of the curt. 

" Is this the man } " he said. 

"Yes, General," replied one of the escort. 

"You say he is a deserter .? " 

"Yes, sir; I knew him in Auglaize county, when 
he joined Captain Hollins's company ; and there is no 
sort of doubt about it. General, as he acknowledges 
that he is the same person." 

" Acknowledges it ! " 

" Yes, sir ; acknowledges that he is Morton, from that 
county ; and that after joining the South he deserted." 

Stuart flashed a quick glance at the prisoner, and 
seemed at a loss to understand what fatuity had 



No. 35] The Innocent Deserter 141 

induced him to testify against himself, thereby seal- 
ing his fate. His gaze, clear, fiery, menacing, was 
returned by the youth with apathetic calmness. Not 
a muscle of his countenance moved, and I now had 
an opportunity to look at him more attentively. He 
was even younger than I at first thought him, indeed, 
a mere boy. His complexion was fair; his hair 
flaxen and curling; his eyes blue, mild, and as soft 
in their expression as a girl's. Their expression, as 
they met the lowering glances of Stuart, was almost 
confiding. I could not suppress a sigh, so painful 
was the thought that this youth would probably be 
lying soon with a bullet through his heart. 

A kinder-hearted person than General Stuart 
never lived ; but in all that appertained to his pro- 
fession and duty as a soldier, he was inexorable. 
Desertion, in his estimation, was one of the deadhest 
crimes of which a human being could be guilty ; and 
his course was plain, his resolution immovable. 

"What is your name.''" said the General coldly, 
with a lowering brow. 

" Morton, sir," was the response, in a mild and 
pleasing voice, in which it was impossible to discern 
the least trace of emotion. 

"Where are you from.^ " 

" I belonged to the battery that was firing at you, 
over yonder, sir." 

The voice had not changed. A calmer tone I 
never heard. 

" Where were you born ? " continued Stuart, as 
coldly as before. 

** In Shelby, Virginia, sir." 

" Did you belong to the Southern army at any 
time .'* " 



142 In and Out of the Army [No. 35 

" Yes, sir." 

The coolness of the speaker was incredible. Stuart 
could only look at him for a moment in silence, so 
astonishing was this equanimity at a time when his 
life and death were in the balance. Not a tone of 
the voice, a movement of the muscles, or a tremor of 
the lip indicated consciousness of his danger. The 
eye never quailed, the colour in his cheek never faded. 
The prisoner acknowledged that he was a deserter 
from the Southern army with the simplicity, candour, 
and calmness of one who saw in that fact nothing 
extraordinary, or calculated in any manner to affect 
his destiny unpleasantly. Stuart's eye flashed ; he 
could not understand such apathy ; but in war there 
is little time to investigate psychological phenomena. 

" So you were in our ranks, and you went over to 
the enemy t " he said with a sort of growl. 

" Yes, sir," was the calm reply. 

" You were a private in that battery yonder } " 

" Yes, sir." 

Stuart turned to an officer, and pointing to a tall 
pine near, said in brief tones : 

" Hang him on that tree ! " 

It was then that a change — sudden, awful, hor- 
rible — came over the face of the prisoner ; at that 
moment I read in the distended eyeballs the vision of 
sudden death. The youth became ghastly pale ; and 
the eyes, before so vacant and apathetic, were all at 
once injected with blood, and full of piteous fright. 
I saw in an instant that the boy had not for a single 
moment reaHzed the terrible danger of his position ; 
and that the words " Hang him on that tree ! " had 
burst upon him with the sudden and appalling force 
of a thunderbolt. He had evidently regarded him- 



No. 35] The hi?iocent Deserter 143 

self as a mere prisoner of war ; and now he was 
condemned to death ! He had looked forward, doubt- 
less, to mere imprisonment at Richmond until regu- 
larly exchanged, when " hang him on that tree ! " 
burst upon his ears like the voice of some avenging 
Nemesis. 

Terrible, piteous, sickening, was the expression of 
the boy's face. He seemed to feel already the rope 
around his neck ; he choked ; when he spoke his 
voice sounded like the death-rattle. An instant of 
horror-struck silence ; a gasp or two as if the words 
were trying to force their way against some obstacle 
in his throat; then the sound came. His tones were 
not loud, impassioned, energetic, not even animated. 
A sick terror seemed to have frozen him ; when he 
spoke it was in a sort of moan. 

"I didn't know," he muttered in low, husky tones. 
"I never meant — when I went over to Maryland — 
to fight against the South. They made me ; I had 
nothing to eat — I told them I was a Southerner — 
and so help me God I never fired a shot. I was with 
the wagons. Oh! General, spare me; I never " 

There the voice died out ; and as pale as a corpse, 
trembling in every hmb — a spectacle of helpless terror 
which no words can describe, the boy awaited his doom. 

Stuart had listened in silence, his gaze riveted 
upon the speaker ; his hand grasping his heavy 
beard ; motionless amid the shell which were burst- 
ing around him. For an instant he seemed to hesi- 
tate — life and death were poised in the balances. 
Then wdth a cold look at the trembling deserter, he 
said to the men : 

" Take him back to General Lee, and report the 
circumstances." 



1 44 In and Out of the Army [no. 36 

With these words he turned and galloped off ; the 
deserter was saved, at least for the moment. 

I do not know his ultimate fate ; but if he saw 
General Lee in person, and told his tale, I think he 
was spared. That great and merciful spirit inflicted 
the death-penalty only when he could not avoid it. 

Since that day I have never seen the face of the 
boy — nor even expect to see it. But I shall never 
forget that vision of sudden death in his distended 
eyes, as Stuart's cold voice ordered, "Hang him on 
that tree." 



36. The Hunt for the Scout 

By John Esten Cooke (1863) 

Among the numerous scouts employed by General 
Stuart, none was braver or more intelligent than a 
young man named Frank Sutledge. He certainly 
was a ranger born. He loved his friends, but he 
loved his calling better still. It might have been said 
of him that man delighted him not, nor woman either. 
His chief delight was to penetrate the dense woods, 
assail the enemy wherever he found an opening, and 
inflict upon them all the injury in his power. In the 
eyes of the scout those enemies were wolves, and he 
hunted them : now and then they returned the com- 
pliment. 

In person Sutledge was suited to his calling ; stout 
but active ; a good hand with pistol and sabre ; quick 
of eye ; and with nerves which no peril could shake. 
Soldiers generally prefer broad daylight and an open 
country to operate in ; Sutledge liked a forest where 
no moon shone. When he found it necessary to pen- 



No. 36] Hunt for the Scout 145 

etrate the hostile lines, and could not elude the watch- 
ful guardians of the night, his habit was to brace 
himself in his stirrups, draw his pistol, and to the 
quick, " Halt ! who goes there ? " shout, " Form fours ! 
draw sabres ! charge!" to an imaginary squadron 
behind him, and pass on with loud yells, firing his 
pistol as he advanced. The result was, generally, 
that the picket fired wildly at him, and then fled 
before the tremendous onslaught of " rebel cavalry," 
whereupon the adventurous scout passed through at 
a thundering gallop, drove the picket before him, and 
adroitly slipping, at the opportune moment, into some 
by-path of the woods, was within the lines. When 
the enemy made a stand at the next rising ground to 
receive the expected charge, none came. When they 
returned to look for Sutledge, he had disappeared. 

It was in November, 1863, when the Federal army 
lay around Culpeper Court-House and Mitchell's Sta- 
tion, that Sutledge was sent on a scout to ascertain the 
number, position, and movements of the Federal 
forces. Taking with him two companions, he crossed 
the upper Rapidan, and carefully worked his way 
toward Mitchell's Station. General Meade had pushed 
forward his lines to this point a few days before, — 
or rather had established large camps there ; it was 
Sutledge's mission to ascertain, if possible, his de- 
signs. 

In due time the small party reached the vicinity 
of the station, and it now became necessary to take 
the remainder of the journey on foot. They accord- 
ingly dismounted, and leaving their horses in a thick 
copse, " snaked " in the direction of a large Federal 
camp near at hand, taking advantage of every cover. 
In this manner they came close upon the camp, and 

L 



146 In and Out of the A7'niy [no. 36 

were rewarded with a sight of acres of canvas. The 
size of the encampments enabled Sutledge to form a 
tolerably accurate estimate of the amount of force 
which General Meade had concentrated at this point ; 
he passed the whole day thus moving cautiously 
around the spot, thereby discovering all which a mere 
reconnoissance could reveal, and began to look for 
stragglers, from whom, as his prisoners, he might 
derive more accurate information still. 

After a fatiguing day, Sutledge and his party lay 
down in the woods near the Federal camp, to snatch 
an hour's sleep before proceeding to their nocturnal 
work. 

Sutledge had selected for his bivouac a retired spot 
where the encirchng woods gave excellent promise of 
concealment, and the covert was so dense as to set 
him completely at his ease. Through the thick 
brushwood no glimmer of firelight could be seen ; 
and the scouts ventured to kindle a fire, which the 
chill November night rendered far from unacceptable. 
By the carefully shaded blaze they warmed their be- 
numbed fingers, ate their supplies of hard bread and 
bacon, and spread their blankets for a brief sleep. 
Sutledge took off his shoes ; laid his hat at his head ; 
and having picked up somewhere a certain " Life of 
Stonewall Jackson," recently published in Richmond, 
now drew it from his haversack, and read a few pas- 
sages by the firelight. This volume must have pro- 
duced a soothing effect upon his feelings, for in a 
short time his eyelids drooped, the volume fell from 
his hands, and he sank to slumber. His companions 
were already snoring by his side. 

They slept longer than they designed doing — in 
fact throughout the entire night. The weather, which 



No. 36] Hunt fo?^ the Scout 147 

had been lowering at nightfall, became gradually 
more threatening ; and soo.n an imperceptible drizzle 
began, just sufficient to wet the blankets of the 
sleepers, but not to chill and awake them. As day- 
drew near, a squad of infantry soldiers, armed with 
muskets, came from the adjoining camp ; and this 
party, on their way to forage for butter, eggs, poultry, 
and other desirable components of a military break- 
fast, stumbled on the slumbering scouts. 

The first intimation which Sutledge had of the 
danger which menaced him was, he declared, an in- 
stinctive feeling that some dangerous foe was near ; 
and this even before he woke. He was not long, 
however, to remain in doubt, or be compelled to ques- 
tion his instincts. He opened his eyes to find the 
blanket suddenly drawn away from his face, and to 
hear a harsh and sarcastic voice exclaim : " How are 
you, Johnny Reb } Come, get up, and we will give 
you more comfortable accommodations than out here 
in the rain ! " 

Sutledge was wide-awake in an instant, and through 
his half-closed lids reconnoitred, counting his op- 
ponents. They were six in number, all armed and 
ready. The situation looked ugly. With his com- 
panions wide-awake and on the alert there might have 
been some ground for hope; but they were slumber- 
ing like the Seven Sleepers, and in utter unconscious- 
ness of danger. As to Sutledge himself, he was in 
their very grasp, and practically disarmed ; for it was 
obvious that at the first movement which he made to 
draw his pistol from the holster around his waist, the 
six muskets, cocked and pointing at his breast, would 
be discharged as one piece, and his body riddled 
with bullets. 



148 In a7td Out of the Army [no. 36 

The situation was depressing : Sutledge and his 
companions were in a veritable trap. The least 
movement which he made would at once put an end 
to him, if six balls through the body could do so ; and 
it was obviously necessary to surrender at once or 
betake himself to strategy. The first was out of 
the question, for Sutledge had made up his mind 




THE SCOUT. 

never to surrender, had indeed sworn a solemn oath 
not to do so under any circumstances ; the second 
alternative remained. A ruse had already suggested 
itself to his quick and daring mind ; and this he now 
proceeded instantly to carry out. To the sneering 
address of his opponent bidding him get up, he made 



No. 37] Escape of the Scout 149 

no immediate reply, but again closed his eyes, pulled 
the blanket up again over his shoulders, and turning 
his back, muttered in a sleepy voice : " Oh ! go away, 
and let me sleep, will you ! " 

This reply highly tickled his adversaries ; and so 
much did they relish the evident impression of the 
Johnny Reb that he was among his own comrades 
in the Confederate camp, that they shook all over in 
the excess of their mirth. Sutledge was a dangerous 
man, however, to jest with. While his opponents 
were thus indulging their merriment, and highly en- 
joying the surprise and mortification he would feel 
when awake to the real nature of the situation, Sut- 
ledge was busy executing the plan which he had de- 
termined upon. Pulling his blanket still further over 
his head, he drew a long laboured breath, turned as 
men do languidly in slumber, and cautiously moved 
his hand beneath the blanket toward the pistol in his 
belt. The hand slowly stole downwards under the 
cover, approached the weapon, and then he had 
grasped the handle. A second careless movement 
extracted the pistol from the holster ; his finger was 
on the hammer — without noise the weapon was 
cocked. 



37. The Escape of the Scout 

By John Esten Cooke (1863) 

The scout was just in time. The squad had finished 
their laugh, enjoyed their little comedy sufficiently, 
and now designed bringing the affair to an end. The 
leader accordingly stooped down and dragged away 
the blanket — when a shot followed, with the muzzle 



150 In a?id Out of the Army [no. 37 

of the pistol upon his breast, and he fell forward 
dead, covering Sutledge with his blood. The scene 
which followed was brief. The rest of the squad 
levelled their • muskets at the scout, and fired with 
the muzzles nearly touching him, but he was wounded 
by none. The body of their companion lying across 
him received the larger portion of the balls ; and 
Sutledge rose to his feet, armed with his deadly re- 
volver, which still contained four charges. These 
he fired in succession rapidly, but with good aim, and 
two of the five remaining men were wounded. The 
three others, finding their guns discharged, dropped 
them, and hastily ran toward the Federal camp. 

Sutledge's companions had been aroused by the 
firing, but were of no assistance to him. One dis- 
gracefully fled into the woods without firing a shot, 
and the other had committed the fatal fault of allow- 
ing his arms to become wetted by the rain. When 
he attempted to fire his pistol the cap snapped, and 
none of the barrels could be discharged. 

This proved, however, of no great importance. 
Sutledge had repulsed the whole party for the mo- 
ment, and did not need assistance. What remained 
for them now was a rapid retreat from the dangerous 
locality. The sudden firing, and the men running in, 
had alarmed the Federal camp, and a large party 
were seen approaching rapidly to take vengeance for 
the blood of their comrades. Sutledge accordingly 
hastened to retire, and disappeared with his com- 
panion just as the enemy rushed upon the area near 
the bivouac fire. In this sudden change of base, 
stores of some value to him were necessarily aban- 
doned. In fact, he was compelled to leave his horse, 
hat, shoes, blanket, and " Life of Jackson" — to fly 



No. 37J Escape of the Scout 151 

bareheaded and in his stocking feet. Even thus 
lightened of all superfluous weight, it was doubtful 
if he could escape ; for the shouts which now re- 
sounded as he ran showed that the enemy were pur- 
suing him hotly, with the evident determination of 
running him to earth and destroying him. 

In a few moments it became plain to Sutledge that 
he was to be hunted down. 

He surveyed his position at a glance, and estimated 
the chances. It seemed that nothing but his own 
quick eye and knowledge of woodcraft could save 
him ; if he was caught, there appeared to be small 
likelihood of his escaping death. He felt that he 
would probably be treated as a guerilla, if not as a 
spy, and shot without benefit of clergy. For this 
reason he did not intend to surrender. He proposed 
to escape if he could ; if he could not, he would sell 
his life as dearly as possible. 

He had, however, been hunted before, and his 
brave heart did not recoil from the struggle. Run- 
ning silently with bare head and shoeless feet through 
the woods, he paused from time to time to listen to 
the shouts of his pursuers, and it soon became obvious 
that they were rapidly approaching upon every side. 

The woods were open — ^ without undergrowth — 
and every moment was now precious. Sutledge re- 
doubled his speed, and darting through the wood, 
suddenly found himself in a small open field, in the 
middle of which rose a clump of pines, one of which 
had recently fallen. In the bushy top of this fallen 
tree he now concealed himself, panting from his long 
run, and listening to the sound of his approaching 
foes closing in on every side. To fight and die 
seemed his only resource ; and reloading his pistol, 



152 /;/ and Out of the Army [No. ^^ 

he grimly waited for the moment which should find 
him at bay, in the presence of his enemies. 

He did not wait long. A few minutes only had 
elapsed when a party of three or four Federals en- 
tered the little area, and approached the clump of 
pines. They passed close to the scout, looking every- 
where for traces of him ; but he crouched down, held 
his breath, and they seemed about to prosecute their 
search in some other direction. Sutledge was indeed 
congratulating himself upon his safety, when, raising 
his head, he caught the eye of one of the enemy, who 
had lingered behind the rest, fixed steadily upon him. 
He was discovered ; and starting to his feet, was 
greeted with the shout, " Here he is ! " which was 
instantly echoed by a hundred voices. 

Sutledge now saw that his life hung upon a thread. 
Unless he could force his way through the cordon 
hemming him in, he was lost. He was unwilling to 
waste the loads in his pistols before the final struggle 
took place — the last desperate struggle which was 
to terminate all. But that conflict now seemed about 
to take place. 

For a single instant the scout and his foes stood 
looking at each other, and neither made any move- 
ment to fire. In presence of this desperate man, the 
enemy seemed averse to the encounter, and waited 
for their comrades to come up. This short pause 
gave the scout an opportunity to decide upon his 
course. If he could only secure a short start, — if 
he were only mounted ! His feet were bruised and 
sore, his strength greatly diminished by the close, 
hot chase. Oh ! for a horse to charge them and 
break through, as he felt he could though they were 
forty deep! As the thought flashed through his 



No. 37] Escape of the Scout 153 

mind, his eyes fell on a mule which was grazing in 
the field not far from him. To dart to the animal 
and throw himself upon its back was the work of an 
instant ; and in the midst of furious outcries and 
hastily fired shots he dug his heels into the sides of 
the frightened animal, and commenced his race for 
life. 

The mule had no sooner recovered from his first 
fright at finding himself so unceremoniously mounted, 
than he made violent attempts by roaching his back, 
and kicking up, to unseat his rider. At the fifth 
or sixth kick-up, accompanied by a movement which 
made the mule resemble an angry cat in outline, the 
scout was laixled on the ground, amid the shouts of 
his enemies, who rushed toward him, firing as they 
came. 

They reached the spot, uttering outcries and curses ; 
but their obstinate foe had once more eluded them. 
The scout had risen quickly, darted into the woods, 
and the chase again commenced with more ardour 
than at first. 

Sutledge now put forth all his remaining strength 
to distance the enemy, following more hotly than ever 
on his track. Panting and worn out almost, half re- 
solving a hundred times to turn and fight and die, he 
still kept on, the shouts of his enemies in his very 
ears. He was growing desperate, and had become 
nearly exhausted. A burning thirst raged in his 
throat ; and although the enemy were on his very 
heels, he could not resist the temptation as he reached 
a little meadow through which ran a limpid stream, 
to pause and quench his thirst. Throwing himself 
upon his knees on the margin of the brook, he stooped 
and swallowed one refreshing draught of the cool 



154 ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^f ^^^ Army [No. 37 

water, and then rising up, found from the shouts of 
his pursuers that they were at last upon him — all 
further hope from flight of no avail. A last desper- 
ate expedient suggested itself — concealment in the 
undergrowth which skirted the stream ; and throwing 
himself at full length amid the bushes, not far from 
the spot where he had knelt down, he hastily drew 
the undergrowth around him and awaited the struggle. 

He had scarcely disappeared from view when his 
enemies reached the spot. He heard their footsteps ; 
their cries resounded ; and suddenly the voice of one 
of them exclaimed : 

" Here's the scoundrel's knee-print in the sand, 
where he drank just now ! He isn't far off ! " 

This cry was the signal for all the detached parties 
to converge toward the spot ; and very soon the field 
was full of them. The scout heard them deploying 
in every direction to guard all the outlets, prepara- 
tory to a rigid search of every species of covert in 
which a fugitive could conceal himself. 

The moment had now come which was to decide 
his fate. The pursuers had searched every portion of 
the field without success, and now returned to the 
point from which they had set forth, subjecting the 
covert to a second and more rigid inspection. Their 
feet were heard trampling amid the undergrowth ; 
they stopped to put aside the bushes, and peer into 
every nook. Sutledge heard their very breathing, 
and cast an eye upon his pistols to see that he had 
neglected nothing ; that every tube was capped, every 
barrel loaded, and both weapons cocked. All was 
right, and he experienced the fierce joy of the man 
who feels that at least he need not die without drag- 
ging down more than one enemy in his fall. 



No. 37] Escape of the Scout 155 

The steps were at his side ; oaths and exclama- 
tions echoed in his very ears. One of the hostile 
party seemed determined to leave no inch of the 
ground unexplored, and bent down, plunging his 
glances into the very bushes over the scout's head. 

Sutledge grasped his pistols with a firmer clutch, 
strung his nerves for instant contest, and prepared to 
rise suddenly to his feet, to lay the curious individual 
before him dead with a pistol bullet through the 
heart, and to throw himself like a tiger at bay into 
the midst of his enemies. 

The bushes were thrust aside ; an oath resounded 
within three feet of him ; he had covered the heart of 
his enemy with the muzzle of his right-hand pistol 
crossed over his breast — when the autumn foliage 
swayed back to its place, an exclamation of disap- 
pointment followed, and the footsteps retreated from 
his hiding-place. 

The scout drew a long breath. He was saved. 

All day long he lay hidden, hearing more than one 
sound which proved that his enemies were still hover- 
ing near ; but they had given up the search in des- 
pair. At night he quietly rose, and found that the 
coast was clear. Proceeding cautiously to recon- 
noitre, he discovered that the ground around his 
hiding-place was only partially guarded, and had Httle 
difficulty in escaping. Eluding such parties as were 
still prowling around, he flanked the Federal pickets, 
travelled all night, and before daylight was safe 
within the Southern lines. 



156 /// a7id Out of the Aiy?iy [No. 38 
38. The Guilty Deserter 

By Geokge H. Gordon (1863) 

Gen. George I HAD received six soldicrs who had been tried and 
H.Gordon of sentenced to be shot for the crime of desertion. At 

Massachu- ^ . , 1 i 

setts. Warrenton Junction the sentences were to have been 

carried into execution. The field had been selected, 
coffins made, and doom announced ; but a sudden 
movement ordered for the day had caused a week's 
suspension, during which five of the fated ones were 
recommended to the President for pardon. For the 
sixth, however, a ringleader, the sentence was un- 
changed ; and again my division was ordered to form 
on the morrow to witness his execution. The hope- 
lessness of his reprieve had been communicated, the 
chaplain had performed his last office, the firing party 
had been detailed, when again an order to march at 
five o'clock in the morning threatened another in- 
human interruption, — which, however, did not hap- 
pen, as will appear. 

With the stoutest of the troops this convict had 
marched sturdily and manfully to Greenwich, follow- 
ing his coffin for fifteen weary miles. Here, at the 
end of his last march, his last hour on earth had come. 
A field near the camp had been selected, and prepa- 
rations made for a fitting termination of the ghastly 
ceremony, when the planter, who had heard that his 
own field was to be devoted to this novel use, bustled 
up to ask with puffy earnestness, "Is it true, General, 
that you are going to shoot one of your men to-day } " 
Then, without awaiting a reply, he continued, " Now, 
my dear sir, you must not think any worse of me if I 
say this executing is a dreadful thing ! And yet it is 



No. 38] The Guilty Deserter 157 

an incident of the war ; why, sir, it is historical, and, 
— bless my soul, sir ! — I want to see it ; and, if you 
do not think it improper, I should like to take my 
little boys with me." 

" If you are so inclined, you may," I replied. And 
indeed he did so incline, for he took a position as near 
to the scene as he could with safety. With umbrella 
under his arm, a linen coat over his shoulders, a little 
dog in front of him, and three small children (aged 
six, eight, and ten) by his side, he was the first on the 
field and the last to leave it. 

Many years ago, hanging on the wall of an accus- 
tomed haunt, I remember finding a strange fascina- 
tion in a coarse print of a military execution. Often 
have I stood spellbound before the picture. The con- 
demned kneeling by the side of his grave, the coffin, 
the blindfolded victim, the platoon of soldiers with 
levelled muskets, the coming word, and in the dis- 
tance a horseman galloping towards the spot, waving 
in his hand a pardon. Could he but fly ! and did he 
reach there in time .? I could never forget the dread- 
ful reality, even with the consciousness that it was 
after all but a painting, a creation perhaps of the 
imagination. But this execution at Greenwich was 
not a dream. Here there was no coloring. A sad, 
stern duty was before me, and there was no reprieve. 
The hour had come ; and the division was formed on 
three sides of a hollow square, leaving the fourth with 
an open grave and fresh earth on its edge, when a 
mournful procession approached. 

Advancing slowly, silently, a firing party of six 
soldiers preceded an ambulance in which a soldier 
was seated upon his coffin, his arms pinioned and his 
eyes cast down. The provost guard followed. The 



158 In a?id Out of the Army [no. 38 

ranks were motionless ; all eyes were fixed upon the 
condemned. He was assisted to the ground, the sol- 
diers placed the coffin by the side of the grave, and 
then the poor, unhappy victim knelt upon his coffin. 
Not a sound was heard save the mournful prayer and 
solemn tones of the death sentence. Not a man 
moved, as the bandage which shut out forever the 
last ray of God's sunlight was placed over the eyes of 
one poor fellow-being. There was no pity and no 
hope. The sharp " Ready ! aim ! " and then came 
the awful choking suspense, relieved by the ringing 
volley which drowned that word of dread. For an 
instant the form remained erect, still on its knees ; 
the next, a corpse rolled over its last receptacle to the 
brink of a yawning grave. 

On their way back to their encampments the troops 
moved in column by the corpse. Death, so real, had 
set its seal upon this human face ; death, so solemn, 
so earnest, had driven a soul so completely from its 
human tenement that I could hardly realize that this 
rigid form had ever felt a human passion, or given 
way to human weakness. When the last look had 
been taken and the field cleared of troops, a small 
burial party lowered the body, filled the grave with 
earth, covered the slight mound with a green sod, 
and left the scene of this tragedy alone with the dead. 
Of the six guns in the hands of the firing party but 
five were loaded ; no one, therefore, could tell who 
held the blank. But four guns were discharged ; and 
from these but two bullets struck the condemned man, 
— one passing through his arm, another through his 
breast, near his heart. He died without a struggle. 
He died, and left no word, save that, as at last he 
realized the awful truth, he begged that he might 



No. 39] Trumpet So?ig 159 

have an interview with myself or General Meade. 
But this was humanely denied, for I was only carry- 
ing out the will of General Meade, and he had passed 
relentlessly upon his case. The law had been defied ; 
and so, at last, the law was vindicated. 



39. Trumpet Song 

The battle-drum's loud rattle is rending ,the air, 
The troopers all are mounted, their sabres are bare ; 
The guns are unlimbered, the bayonets shine, 
Hark! hark! 'tis the trumpet-call ! wheel into line ! 

Ta ra ! ta ta ta ! 
Trum trum, tra ra ra ra ! 
Beat drums and blow trumpets I , 

Hurrah, boys, hurrah ! 

March onward, soldiers, onward, the strife is begun. 
Loud bellowing rolls the boom of the black-throated 

gun ; 
The rifles are cracking, the torn banners toss, 
The sabres are clashing, the bayonets cross. 

Ta ra, etc. 

Down with the leaguing liars, the traitors to their trust. 
Who trampled the fair charter of Freedom in dust ! 
They falter — they waver — they scatter — they 

run — 
The field is our own, and the battle is won ! 

Ta ra, etc. 



i6o In and Out of the Army [no. 40 

God save our mighty people and prosper our cause ! 
We're fighting for our nation, our land, and our laws ! 
Though tyrants may hate us, their threats we defy, 
And drum-beat and trumpet shall peal our reply ! 

Ta ra ! ta ta ta ! 
Beat drums and blow trumpets ! 
Trum trum, tra ra ra ra ! 

Hurrah, boys, hurrah ! 



40. The Belligerent Quaker 

(1863) 

" General Orders No. 47. — Captain Carter, 5th 
Indiana Volunteers, is hereby relieved from his com- 
mand indefinitely, and will report at these headquar- 
ters immediately. 

By order of Major-General Rosecrans. 

Lieut. Col. C. GoDDARD, A. A. G. 

The above order was read upon dress parade to 
the gallant old 5th, in January, 1863. The regiment 
was struck dumb, so to speak, and the captain most 
of all. What could such an order mean t Surely, 
none deserved censure less than Captain Carter ; but 
none could give a sufificient reason why he should be 
thus reheved ; for, said they, does not the order imply 
disgrace .? But these mutterings were not heard at 
headquarters, and were of no avail. The Captain 
retired to his tent, relieved himself of his accoutre- 
ments, called his servant Tom, and set out for head- 
quarters, with none but his black companion. 



No. 40] The Belligerent ^^aker 161 

General Rosecrans was quartered in Judge Ready's 
house, and had a private suit of rooms on the second 
floor, with windows opening upon a veranda. He 
was sitting before a bright fire on the evening our 
story opens, in undress uniform, with nothing but the 
buttons to betoken rank. An orderly entered and 
announced Captain Carter. The General arose 
quickly, and advanced to meet him, with that easy, 
smiling look, that put the Captain's fears at rest. 
The General took him by the hand, while his coun- 
tenance assumed a more thoughtful look, or rather 
settled in repose, and said : — 

" This is Captain Carter, of the 5th Indiana } " 

" It is, sir," replied the Captain. 

"You received a peremptory order this evening to 
report forthwith." 

" I did, sir, and have done so." 

" Yes, yes ; take a seat. Captain. I am in want of 
a man of some experience, Captain, who has not only 
a 'hand to do and a heart to dare,' but also has judg- 
ment to guide and direct both. General Thomas, after 
quietly looking through his command, has picked on 
you ; and I have such confidence in the ' grizzled old 
hero' that I have summoned you here for secret ser- 
vice. Are you willing to undertake it, with all its risks t " 

"Anything, General, for our country's good." 

" Very well, sir ; you will remain here to-night. 
Any of your effects you may need, send for by the 
orderly at the door. During the night I will inform 
you what your duties will be." 

One morning in February, 1863, two persons were 
making their way on horseback from Shelbyville to 
Spring Hill. The first of these was dressed in 



1 6 2 In and Out of the Army [no. 40 

Quaker garb, and bestrode a light-built, dapple bay 
stallion, whose small, sinewy limbs, broad chest, and 
open nostrils betokened both speed and bottom. 
Horse and rider were ill-matched, but seemed to have 
a perfect understanding. 

The other person was a negro, dressed like his 
master, broad brim, white neck-tie and all, mounted 
on a stout roadster. They were fast approaching a 
vidette post ; were shortly halted by a cavalryman ; 
they drew rein and dismounted. 

" Is thee a man of war } " asked the Quaker. 

" Don't know ; reckon, tho', I mought be. But 
what's your business, Quaker } " 

" Does thee know a Mr. Van Dorn about 
here ? " 

" Well, I reckon I does ; but he'll mister ye if you 
call him that." 

" Well, I have business with him, and I desire ad- 
mittance into thy camps." 

" All right, old fellow ; wait till I call the corporal." 

General Van Dorn was examining some maps and 
charts, when an orderly entered and announced that 
a Quaker desired to see him. 

" Admit him," said the General. 

" Is thee Mr. Van Dorn, whom carnal men call 
General .? " 

" What is your business with me, sir } " asked the 
General, without answering the question. 

" I am sent, friend Van Dorn, by my society, to 
administer comforts and consolation to these men of 
war, and would ask permission to bring such things 
as they may need or my means may supply." 

" Have you any recommendations .-' " 

" Yes, verily; " and the Quaker produced a bundle 



No. 40] The Belligerent ^luaker 163 

of papers, and commenced assorting them out. 
"Here is one from friend Quakenbush, and here — " 

" Never mind," said the General, while the corners 
of his mouth commenced to jerk ; " here, Mr. — " 

"Thurston," suggested the Quaker. 

" Mr. Thurston, here is a pass through the lines at 
will for such articles as you may see proper to bring. 
This is all, sir .'' " 

" May I ask, friend, how far it is to those ungodly 
men who are persecuting our people with fire and 
sword, whom the carnal men call the Yankees } " 

"Yes, sir. About fourteen miles. See that you 
give them a wide berth, for they have a curious way 
of burning men of your persuasion." 

" Yes, verily will I ; " and with this the Quaker 
retired. 

" Queer character, that," remarked the General to 
himself ; " but it takes all kinds to make a world." 

The Quaker passed out among the camps, meeting 
a smile here, and a rough jest there. The Quaker 
seemed to have a good supply of tracts and religious 
papers, which he scattered freely, with a word of 
gentle admonition to the card-players, and a hint of 
the world to come to all. He was particular in his 
inquiries for the sick, and even visited all the forts 
and fortifications, and made particular inquiries in 
and about them for the sick, writing a letter for one, 
furnishing a stamp to another ; so that at the close of 
the day he had visited all, and made a memorandum 
of what was needed, and was preparing to leave 
camp, when a Lieutenant came and accosted him 
with, " I say, stranger, haven't we met before .'' " 

" Nay, verily," replied the Quaker, " I go not about 
where carnal men do battle." 



164 In and Out of the Ar^ny [no. 40 

" No ! Well, I must have seen you at some place, 
but I don't recollect where. Likely I'm mistaken." 

"Very Hke, friend; good day to you." 

" Massa, did ye see dat debbil's eyes brighten 
up towards the last } Tells ye, sure, we'd better be 
trablin." 

" Yes, Sam, I saw it, and my recollection is better 
than his, for I took him prisoner at Stone River, 




A MULE TEAM. 



though he escaped soon after. We will pass out as 
soon as possible." 

That night a despatch went to General Bragg, 
which read : 



" Look out for a Quaker, followed by a nigger. 
He is a spy. Arrest him. 

"Gen. Van Dorn." 



No. 41] T/ie Quakers Escape 165 

41. The Quaker's Escape 

(1863) 

The next day a negro rode into Murfreesboro', and 
passed on to General Rosecrans' headquarters, and 
presenting a pass, was admitted to his private apart- 
ments, and handed the General a paper which read : 
"2 overcoats and 6 hats, 37 shirts, 3200 tracts, 2000 
for the unconverted at Spring Hill." 

General Rosecrans was eagerly looking over the 
document when General Thomas was announced. 
The latter was cordially met by General Rosecrans, 
who immediately handed him the paper he had just 
received. 

" This is all cipher to me. General," said General 
Thomas. 

"I suppose so," said the former, who had been 
writing. " Well, here is something more intelUgible : 
' Two forts of six guns each ; thirty-seven additional 
guns; 3200 troops, 2000 of which are cavalry, at 
Spring Hill.' " 

" Humph ! Some of Captain Carter's ingenuity," 
said General Thomas. 

" Yes, he is doing his work nobly, so far. I only 
hope no harm may come to him." 

"Well, General," said Thomas, "Colonel Blake of 
the 5th Indiana, was asking me to-day why the Cap- 
tain was relieved of his command ; of course I knew 
nothing about it." 

"That was right," said Rosecrans; "the effective- 
ness of the ' secret service ' would be greatly impaired 
by having the names of those engaged in it made 
known. I enjoined the utmost secrecy upon the 



1 66 In and Out of the Army [no. 41 

Captain, and kept him here thgt night that he might 
not be questioned too closely by his comrades. We 
will hear from him by ten o'clock to-morrow." 

Just then a gentleman, evidently a Southerner, was 
shown in. 

" Where do you reside } " asked General Bragg. 

" I live near Brandyville, General, and came down 
to see if something can't be done to keep these in- 
fernal Yankees from our section. They were down 
there yesterday, and took off over two thousand 
bushels of corn, and nearly all the wheat in the 
country." 

The speaker was a middle aged man of rather good 
features, but his countenance betokened the too free 
use of Confederate whiskey. 

"What did you say your name was, Colonel.-*" 

" Ashcroft, sir." 

" Yes, yes, I have heard of your family. You have 
done nobly for our cause, from report." 

" We have tried to do our duty. General, and what 
little I have left you are welcome to, but I don't want 
the Yankees to get it. I sent down by General 
Wheeler's command, the other day, a hundred bush- 
els of meal as a gift." 

" I wish we had more like you," said Bragg. 
" Let me fill your glass again, Colonel. I wish I 
had something better to offer you." 

" Permit me, General, to send to my portmanteau 
for a bottle of wine." 

" Yes, sah." 

" Rare vintage, this, General. It's one of a lot I 
got North before the war." 

" Excellent," says Bragg. " I would like to have a 



No. 41] The ^luaker s Escape 167 

supply. By the way, Colonel, did you see anything 
of a Quaker-like personage on the road this morn- 
ing?" 

" Riding a bay horse, with a nigger following .-' " 

" The same." 

" Why, yes. He came to my plantation last night. 
I insisted on his staying all night, but he was in a 
hurry, and could not stop." 

" He was a Yankee spy," said Bragg. 

"The devil! and to think I gave the rascal his 
supper ! " 

"Well, well, never mind. Colonel; we'll pick him 
up yet. I'm looking for some Georgia and Ala- 
bama troops up shortly, and if the cowardly Dutch- 
man doesn't run, I'll make another Stone River for 
him." 

" Good for you. General. Don't leave even one of 
them on our soil. But it's getting late, and I must 
try and get some supplies before I go back. Will 
you accommodate me with a pass .'' " 

" Certainly, and here is a bill of protection for 
your person and property. No thanks ; good day to 
you." 

" Golly, Massa Cap'n, you's bin talkin' to de ole 
debbil hissef." 

" Hush ! not so loud, Tom. I've got one more to 
visit, and then we'll be off, and take a straight shoot 
up Hoover's Gap." 

" Cap'n, Cap'n ! dey's a regiment ob dese dirty 
rebels just started up de Manchester road, dat's go- 
ing up from Hoober's Gap, for I heard de Kernel 
say so." 

" All right, Tom ; we'll take the Shelbyville road, 
and run the risk of meeting Van Dorn. Go out 



/ 



abatis = a 
means of 
defence 
formed by 
felled trees. 



1 6 8 In and Out of the Ar7}iy [no. 41 

through the 'abatis,' the same way we came m with 
the horses, and I'll meet you in half an hour by that 
old house." 



" Missus, dey's a gentleman dat got a frow off his 
boss out here, and would like to stop awhile wid ye, 
if ye please. Missus." 

" Very well ; I'll send a boy out to help him in. — 
Are you much hurt, sir } " 

" No, madam, I think not ; my horse got fright- 
ened at some object in the road, and threw me heav- 
ily on my right shoulder. A night's rest, madam, 
will enable me to pursue my journey, I think." 

Our hero found, upon examination, that there were 
no bones broken, and yet the bruise was severe 
enough to make him covet a night's rest, in prefer- 
ence to passing it on the saddle. So without more 
ado, he submitted to his hostess's desire to bathe the 
bruised shoulder, and prepare him a comfortable bed 
by the fire. 

During the night he was awakened by the loud 
clatter of horses' hoofs, followed immediately by a 
loud " hilloa." 

During the conversation which occurred outside, he 
heard the name of Van Dorn mentioned, and the thought 
that they might meet was anything but comfortable to 
him just at that time ; but he resolved to trust to luck, 
and if that failed, he would try what virtue there was in 
" right angles, horizontals," etc. Presently the door 
opened, and an officer entered, dressed in the height 
of Confederate style, — gilt buttons, gold lace, and 
all, — a glance at which showed that he bore the rank 
of Lieutenant-General. The conversation that en- 
sued informed our hero that he had the honor of 



No. 41] T/ie ^luaker s Escape 169 

occupying the same room with General Hardee. He 
had as yet feigned sleep. He heard the General ask 
the lady if she knew who he was, and her reply was 
that she did not. Then followed the story of his 
getting thrown, and so on. He was anxious to estab- 
lish his reputation with the General as a sound 
secesh, and a little ruse occurred to him, which he 
resolved to practice and suddenly bawled out as if 
asleep, — 

" Run, Tom ; the infernal Yankees are coming ; 
put all the horses in the back pasture ; take away 
every nigger with you." 

" Ha, ha ! " laughed the General ; " he's all right. 
I'll bet on him. But you see, madam, there is a 
spy in our Hnes that we are anxious to catch, and he 
has, so far, eluded us, and if we meet a stranger, we 
are anxious to find out his standing. I'm satisfied 
with this one, for a man will tell the truth when he's 
asleep." 

"Your supper's ready, sah." 

"And I'm ready for it," replied the General, and 
left the room. 

Our hero moved, grunted, and finally turned over, 
found his hostess still in the room, and behind her he 
saw Tom making motions for him to come out. 

The lady asked if he felt comfortable, had he slept 
well, to all of which he replied in the afifirmative ; 
upon which she left the room, and he followed soon 
after, and found Tom waiting for him. 

" Massa, dese debbils has * sprised ' us, and we'd 
better be a leabin'. I'se got a 'nigh shoot' from de 
niggahs, dat we can cut across to Manchester and up 
fru de gap from heah." 

" All right, Tom ; where's the horses } " 



lyo In and Out of the Army [no. 42 

" I'se got um, Massa, out below here." 
" Here's for them, then, Tom ; come on quickly." 
They reached our lines the following evening, and 
reported to General Rosecrans. 

The following order explains itself : — 

Special Field Order. 

Capt. Carter (5th Ind. Vols.) is hereby ordered to 
return to his command, and is recommended for pro- 
motion. By order 

W. S. Rosecrans, Maj.-Gen. 
Lieut.-Col. C. GoDDARD, A. A. G. 



42. A Courier's Evening 

By a Trooper (1863) 

Of all the duties performed by our soldiers in this 
war, none were more dangerous or exciting than 
those of the courier. True, the infantry and artillery 
fought the pitched battles, and the cavalry led the 
advance, held the outposts, or made long rides around 
the enemy's flanks ; but they were conducted in per- 
son by officers of judgment and experience, and, 
besides, individual danger is immeasurably lessened 
by facing it en masse. 

To the courier, however, were intrusted the written 
commands for the movements of the army, with 
which he was expected to make his way alone (unless 
particular danger was foreseen) through a country 
that was probably penetrated by the enemy's scouts 
or infested by the more dreaded guerillas. 

We had just got settled into camp again, at Tren- 



No. 42] A Courier s Evening 171 

ton, Georgia, after the laborious scaling of Sand 
Mountain, when, early one bright starry morning, the 
orderlies shook us out from, the comfortable blankets, 
with injunctions to pack everything and saddle up 
immediately. Then we started on a long and dusty, 
but a pleasant, starlight ride across the valley, pass- 
ing the rear camps of McCook and Thomas, from 
which the reveille was beating merrily in the crisp 
morning air. These corps were on the march to cross 
the Lookout Mountains, which loomed up grandly 
in the distance. We were not long in discovering 
the nature of our new duties. As we proceeded, 
details of five or six men, under a non-commissioned 
officer, were left at convenient points along the road ; 
these were stations or reliefs on the courier line 
which we were forming. Our station was the most 
remote from the head-quarters of the army, while the 
constant advance of the different corps left us every 
day more isolated. 

It was about ten o'clock on a cool night in the early 
part of September. Our little cabin blazed with a 
cheerful fire, which sent a gleam of dancing light out 
through the open doorway and across the road. The 
couriers, belted and spurred, stood or reclined in all 
sorts of positions around the fire, silently awaiting 
despatches. We had learned to be expectant at 
night, as experience had proved that the majority of 
the mysterious packages came through at that time. 
Sergeant Daniels had just made a remark to that 
effect, when the familiar sound of horse's feet broke 
upon our ears. Mine were, perhaps, more alive to 
the sound at that moment than the rest, it being my 
turn to carry the next despatch. I walked to the 
door to listen. By the speed of the approaching 



172 /// a?id Out of the Army Cno. 42 

messenger, I knew that the missive he carried was 
in haste. In advance of his arrival, therefore, I pro- 
ceeded to mount Shiloh, who was in excellent trim, 
and rubbed his nose briskly on my shoulder as I 
untied him. 'He knew right well that a long and 
perilous journey was to be made, and like a brave 
animal snorted defiance. 

In another moment the courier arrived. Sergeant 
Daniels examined the despatch, and handed it to me 
as I rode up to the door. By the light from within I 
glanced at the superscription and read : " Major Gen- 
eral Thomas, commanding 14th Corps. Full speed." 
An instant later I was galloping away. 

The night was very clear, but chilly, and I braced 
myself anew for the weary ride. I had traversed 
those roads several times before at night, but on this 
occasion they appeared to be unusually gloomy. 
The fenceless fields by which I swept seemed more 
forlorn than usual ; the woods were darker through 
which I felt my way ; the hideous cry of the owls 
seemed to fill the air with demon voices. I could not 
shake from me the presentiment of some impending 
evil. Instinctively my hand sought the revolver at 
my side, and half-cocked it. The action caused Shi- 
loh to prick up his ears and increase his speed, and 
in a short time I found myself under the bold brow 
of Lookout, which shut out half the heavens, and 
rendered the darkness more intense. 

The approach to the mountain lies through a dense 
woods, along the outer skirt of which flowed a small 
stream. Approaching the creek, I loosened the rein 
in order to allow my horse to drink, as he was accus- 
tomed to do at this place. The banks were rather 
steep, and as he lowered his nose and was about to 



No. 42] A Courier s Rveni?ig 173 

feel his way into the water, the woods behind were 
torn into a million echoes by the report of a rifle ! 
At the same time my horse plunged madly forward 
into the creek, lost his footing, and we both went 
down together. It will readily be believed that I was 
scared ; but I preserved sufficient presence of mind 
to disengage my feet from the stirrups and to draw 
my pistol, which I held up out of the water. The 
current of the stream was neither deep nor strong, 
so that Shiloh and myself soon regained our feet, 
and made all haste up the opposite bank. It was 
not until that moment that I noticed a mounted 
figure darkly outlined on the other side of the stream. 
It was my would-be murderer, w^ho had doubtless ex- 
pected to find me dead or disabled. I gave him a 
positive assurance to the contrary by discharging 
a shot at him, which caused the figure to disappear 
as suddenly as it had come. I Hstened to the sound 
of the rascal's retreat until it died away in the 
distance. Then, wringing some of the water out 
of my clothes, and remounting, I pushed forward 
with all speed from what appeared to be a dangerous 
locality. 

But my horse had not proceeded twenty yards be- 
fore I perceived that his strength was failing. His 
steps lagged more and more every moment, in spite 
of my utmost efforts to urge him forward. With a 
heavy heart I dismounted and examined him. My 
fears proved too true: he was wounded. I felt a 
perforation, from which the warm blood oozed slowly 
down his flanks. The brave beast finally succumbed, 
and with a deep drawn sigh staggered heavily to the 
ground. For awhile my own danger was forgotten 
in sympathy for the poor horse. He had borne me 



174 ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^f ^^^^ A?y?iy [no. 42 

faithfully and well through a thousand perils, and 
now he was giving up his life in my service. 

My situation was certainly alarming. The bush- 
whacker might follow me, and it was equally probable 
that others of his clan were lying in advance, to make 
sure of the victim. Those dreadful marauders seldom 
traveled alone. 

For aught I knew their practiced eyes might even 
then be staring through the darkness around me. 
For a moment or two I was in a painful state of inde- 
cision. In night rides I had always trusted implicitly 
to the instinct of my horse ; but now that resource 
was denied me, and my topographical instincts were 
none of the best. Should I make my way back to 
the station, remount and bring a comrade with me } 
A feeling of pride determined me to go forward at 
all hazards and deliver my despatch. Quickly strip- 
ping the bridle, blanket, and saddle-bags from the 
dead animal, and securing them about my person, I 
gave my belt an extra hitch, and started forward. 

By the position of the few stars that were visible I 
assumed the time to be near midnight. The road up 
the mountain was fearfully trying to legs and wind. 
For two hours (as I judged) I clambered up the rocky 
way, stopping every hundred yards to rest and fill 
my exhausted lungs. The air grew colder as I 
neared the summit, and the heavy dew saturated my 
cap and great-coat, already well soaked in the creek. 
It was growing lighter, too, as I ascended. I turned 
at times to look off into the valley behind, which 
stretched away dark and shadowy to the horizon. 

I turned away with a sigh and bent my steps again 
toward the summit. I had not gone far when "Halt! 
who comes there } " yelled out shrill and clear, as if 



No. 42] A Courier s Evening 175^ 

from the clouds. The unexpected challenge thrilled 
me to the marrow. Was it a rebel or a Union picket.'' 
The lightninghke process by which I arrived at the 
conclusion that my challenger was a Federal sentry, 
is long since forgotten ; but to such a conclusion I 
did arrive in an instant. Answering — 

" A courier with despatches." 

" Dismount, courier, and advance," he replied. 

As I was already dismounted, I proceeded to obey 
the latter part of the injunction. I had gone but 
a few yards, however, when I was halted again. 
" Where's your horse .'' " inquired the sentinel, who 
was evidently growing suspicious. This question led 
to an explanation of affairs; and in a Sliort time I 
was the centre of a gaping crowd on the mountain 
top, to whom I related my adventure in the valley. 
My listeners were a portion of Harrison's Mounted 
Infantry, who were returning from a scout. I hold 
in grateful remembrance a tin-cup full of hot coffee, 
which one of these brave boys prepared for my bene- 
fit. I think they called him " Gussy." Aided by the 
advice of these boys, and a captured mule which they 
loaned me, I was not long in finding the way into the 
other valley, where the newly risen sun and freshly 
traveled roads enabled me to keep track of the 14th 
Corps. I found the Head-Quarters of Thomas in the 
saddle, and delivered my despatch to one of his staff. 




A PRIVATE. 



PART IV 
BOY SOLDIERS AND SAILORS 



War, was one 
of the bravest 
and most 



43. Young Farragufs Command 

By Midshipman David Farragut (18 13) 

I WAS sent as a prize-master to the Barclay. This David Farra- 
was an important event in my Hfe, and when it was ^"*'^^°j°j.in^' 
decided that I was to take the ship to Valparaiso, I the civii 
felt no little pride in finding myself in command at 
twelve years of age. This vessel had been recap- 
tured from a Spanish ^//^r^aV? costa. The Captain and capable of all 
his mate were on board, and I was to control the na^jroffi- 
men sent from our frigate, while the Captain was to cers. 
navigate the vessel. 

This arrangement caused great dissatisfaction on 
the part of the Captain of the Barclay, a violent tem- 
pered old fellow ; and, when the day arrived for our 
separation from the squadron, he was furious, and 
very plainly intimated to me that I would find myself 
off New Zealand in the morning ; to which I most 
decidedly demurred. 

I considered that my day of trial had arrived (for 
I was a little afraid of the old fellow, as every one 
else was). But the time had come for me at least to 
play the man ; so I mustered up courage and informed 
the Captain that I desired the maintopsail filled away, 
N 177 



178 Boy So/diers a?id Sailors [no. 43 

in order that we might close up with the Essex Junior 
(which was to accompany us to Valparaiso). He re- 
plied that he would shoot any man who dared to 
touch a rope without his orders, he would go his own 
course, and had no idea of trusting himself with a 
nutshell, and then he went below for his pistols. 

I called my right hand man of the crew, and told 
him my situation ; I also informed him that I wanted 
the maintopsail filled. He answered with a clear 
"Aye, aye, sir!" in a manner which was not to be 
misunderstood, and my confidence was perfectly re- 
stored. From that moment I became master of the 
vessel, and immediately gave all necessary orders for 
making sail, notifying the Captain not to come on 
deck with his pistols unless he wished to go over- 
board ; for I would really have had very little trouble 
in having such an order obeyed. 

I returned to the Barclay^ and everything went 
on amicably up to our arrival at Valparaiso. The 
passage was one of uniform good weather, un- 
accompanied by any event worthy of note. We 
made Hood's Island, one of the Marquessas group. 
On our approach, a canoe came out to meet us, with 
eight natives tattooed and ornamented with feathers. 
They invited us on shore, and promised us fruit and 
provisions in abundance. Finally we rounded a 
point and ran into a beautiful harbor, to be called, 
thereafter, Massachusetts Bay. The ship was hauled 
into a good berth, close in shore, the water being per- 
fectly clear, with a sandy bottom. 

During our stay at this island, the youngsters, I 
among the number, were sent on board the vessel 
commanded by our Chaplain, for the purpose of con- 
tinuing our studies, away from temptation. We were 



No. 44] Young Farragut 179 

allowed, when not occupied with our duties, to ramble 
about on shore in company with the native boys. 
From them we learned to throw the spear and walk 
on stilts ; but the most useful accompHshment we 
acquired was the art of swimming. It really ap- 
pears as natural for these islanders to swim as to eat. 
I have often seen mothers take their little children, 
apparently not more than two years old, down to the 
sea on their backs, walk deliberately into deep water, 
and leave them to paddle for themselves. To my 
astonishment, the little creatures could swim like 
young ducks. 

In such amusements the time passed pleasantly 
enough. We were considered too young to join in 
the battles which our people were carrying on with 
the Happars and Typees, and the Captain did not 
allow us to accompany him on these expeditions in- 
land, at which, of course, we felt indignant. 



44. Cadet Grant at West Point 

By Ulysses Simpson Grant (1838) 
In the winter of 1838-39 I was attending school at This is the 



Ripley, only ten miles distant from Georgetown, but 
spent the Christmas holidays at home. During this 
vacation my father received a letter from the Honor- 
able Thomas Morris, then United States senator from 
Ohio. When he read it he said to me, " Ulysses, 
I believe you are going to receive the appointment." 
" What appointment } " I inquired. " To West Point; 
I have applied for it." " But I won't go," I said. He 
said he thought I would, and I thought so too, if he did. 



later General 
and Presi- 
dent. 



1 8 o Boy Soldiers atid Sailors [no. 44 

Besides this argument in favor of my going to 
West Point there was another very strong induce- 
ment. I had always a great desire to travel. Going 
to West Point would give me the opportunity of visit- 
ing the two great cities of the continent, Philadelphia 




BIRTHPLACE OF GENERAL GRANT. 



and New York. This was enough. When these 
places were visited I would have been glad to have 
had a steamboat or a railroad collision, or any other 
injury happen, by which I might have received a 
temporary accident sufficient to make me ineligible, 
for a time, to enter the Academy. Nothing of the 
kind occurred, and I had to face the music. 



No. 44] Cadet Grant i 8 i 

A military life had no charms for me, and I had 
not the faintest idea of staying in the army even if 
I should be graduated, which I did not expect. The 
encampment which preceded the commencement of 
academic studies was very wearisome and uninterest- 
ing. When the 28th of August came — the date for 
breaking up camp and going into barracks — I felt as 
though I had been at West Point always, and that if I 
staid to graduation, I would have to remain always. 
I did not take hold of my studies with avidity, in fact I 
rarely ever read over a lesson the second time during 
my entire cadetship. I could not sit in my room doing 
nothing. There is a fine library connected with the 
academy, from which cadets can get books to read 
in their quarters. I devoted more time to these than 
to the books relating to the course of studies. Much 
of the time, I am sorry to say, was devoted to novels, 
but not those of a trash sort. I read all of Bulwer's 
then published, Marryat's, Scott's, Washington Irving's 
works. Lever's, and many others that I do not now re- 
member. Mathematics were very easy to me, so that 
when January came, I passed the examination taking 
a good standing in that branch. In French, the only 
other study at that time in the first year's course, my 
standing was very low. In fact if the class had been 
turned the other end foremost I should have been 
near the head. I never succeeded in getting squarely 
at either end of my class, in any one study, during 
the four years. I came near it in French, artillery, 
infantry and cavalry tactics, and conduct. 

During my first year's encampment, General Scott 
visited West Point, and reviewed the cadets. With 
his commanding figure, his quite colossal size and 
showy uniform, I thought him the finest specimen 



I 8 2 Boy Soldiers and Sailo?^s [no. 44 

of manhood my eyes had ever beheld, and the most 
to be envied. I could never resemble him in appear- 
ance, but I believe I did have a presentiment for a 
moment that some day I should occupy his place on 
review, although I had no intention then of remain- 
ing in the army. 

At last all the examinations were passed, and the 
members of the class were called upon to record their 
choice of arms of service and regiments. I was anx- 
ious to enter the cavalry, or dragoons, as they were 
then called, but there was only one regiment of dra- 
goons in the army at that time, and attached to that, 
besides the full complement of officers, there were at 
least four brevet second lieutenants. I recorded, 
therefore, my first choice, dragoons ; second, infantry ; 
and got the latter. 

Having made alternate choice of two different 
arms of service with different uniforms, I could not 
get a uniform suit, until notified of my assignment. 
I left my measurement with a tailor, with directions 
not to make the uniform until I notified him whether 
was to be for infantry or dragoons. Notice did not 
reach me for several weeks, and then it took at least 
a week to get the letter of instruction to the tailor, 
and two more to make the clothes and have them 
sent to me. This was a time of great suspense. 

Two incidents happened soon after the arrival of 
the clothes, which gave me a distaste for military 
uniform that I never recovered from. Soon after 
the arrival of the suit I donned it, and put off for 
Cincinnati on horseback. While I was riding along 
a street of that city, imagining that everyone was 
looking at me, with a feeling akin to mine when I 
first saw General Scott, a little urchin, bareheaded, 



No. 45] Midshipman s Nightcaps 183 

barefooted, with dirty, ragged pants held up by a 
single gallows, turned to me and cried, "Soldier! 
will you work ? No, sir-ee ; I'll sell my shirt first ! " 
The other circumstance occurred at home. Oppo- 
site our house in Bethel stood the old stage tavern 
where man and beast found accommodation. The 
stable-man was rather dissipated, but possessed a 
sense of humor. On my return I found him parad- 
ing the streets, and attending in the stable, bare- 
footed, but in a pair of sky-blue nankeen trousers, 
just the color of my uniform trousers, with a strip of 
white cotton sheeting sewed down the outside seams 
in imitation of mine. The joke was a huge one in 
the minds of many people, and was much enjoyed by 
them ; but I did not appreciate it so highly. 



45. A Midshipman's Nightcaps 

By Midshipman William Parker (1841) 

I ENTERED the United States Navy as a midship- 
man on the 19th day of October, 1841, being then 
fourteen years of age. I was almost immediately 
ordered to the United States ship North Carolina, 
and on the 27th day of the same month reported for 
duty to Commodore Perry, then commanding the 
station at New York. 

I well recollect my extreme surprise at being ad- 
dressed as " Mr." by the commodore, and being re- 
called to my senses by the sharp "William" of my 
father, who accompanied me to the Navy Yard. 

My father soon left me, and I was taken below to 



184 J^oy Soldiers and Sailors [No. 45 

be introduced to my messmates, of whom I found 
about thirty, messing in the gun-room and sleeping 
on the orlop deck. During the first day, I was in a 
constant state of excitement ; the frequent calling of 
all hands, and the running about caused me to think 
the ship was on fire, and I repaired to the quarter- 
deck many times to see what the matter was. 

Several of the mid- 
shipmen hung about 
me watching a chance 
to perpetrate their 
jokes ; but a green- 
horn, hke myself, hap- 
pening to complain to 
them that he " could not 
find Cheeks, the marine, 
anywhere," caused me 
to smile ; for I was well 
up in Marryatt's novels. 
So they let me alone 
with the remark that 
they supposed my father 
and brother (both of 
whom were in the navy) 
had put me up to the 
usual navy jokes. 

About this time all 
hands were called to 
stand by the hammocks ; and my surprise was great 
when I saw the hammocks taken out from the net- 
tings ; for I had previously supposed that naval 
officers, taking the hint from General Jackson's de- 
fences at New Orleans, had stuffed the ship's sides 
with bags of cotton, to resist shot ! Fortunately, I 




.A MIDDY. 



No. 45] Midshipman s Nightcaps 185 

did not allow this to escape me, or I should have been 
called " cotton-bale Parker " to this day. 

When I was taken down to the orlop deck, and saw 
the hammocks swung, I could not imagine how I was 
to sleep in, or rather on one ; for, not knowing that 
it was not un lashed and that it contained inside a 
mattress and blankets, I naturally thought it was the 
way of sailors to sit a-straddle of it, and repose in 
this unnatural attitude. It caused me much unhappi- 
ness that night in the gun-room, and I thought I had 
better, perhaps, resign and go home at once ; but at 
two bells, nine o'clock, when we all went down to 
turn in, I was much relieved to see the hammocks 
spread out into a more reasonable shape. 

Here another surprise awaited me. Up to this 
time I had suffered much with ear-ache, and my 
mother had caused me to wear nightcaps. There 
was nothing strange to me in this, as other boys wore 
them at my boarding-school, but it seems it was not 
a " way they had in the navy." My caps were of 
many colors, — red, blue, green, etc., — for they were 
made of remnants of my sisters' dresses. Now, as I 
made my final preparations for repose, I opened my 
trunk, and put on a close-fitting nightcap. 

It was the signal for an indescribable scene of con- 
fusion. If I had put on a suit of mail, it could not 
have caused greater astonishment among these light- 
hearted youngsters. They rushed to my trunk, seized 
the caps, put them on, and joined in a wild dance on 
the orlop deck, in which were mingled red caps, blue 
caps, white caps, — all colors of caps, in pleasing 
variety. I had to take mine off before turning in, as 
it really did seem to be too much for their feeUngs ; 
but I managed to smuggle it under my pillow, and 



I 86 Boy Soldiers and Sailors [no. 46 

when all was quiet I put it on again ; but when the 
midshipman came down at midnight to call the relief 
he spied it, and we had another scene. This was 
the last I ever saw of my caps. I have never had on 
one since, and, consequently, have never had the ear- 
ache. 



Later a rear- 
admiral— a 
title corre- 
sponding to 
brigadier- 
general. 



46. The Rear Admiral as Midship- 
man 

By Midshipman Samuel Rhoades Franklin (1841) 

I WAS appointed an acting midshipman in the navy 
by Secretary Paulding, on the i8th day of February, 
1 84 1. In those days the appointments were thus 
made ; and if the commanding officer with whom an 
acting midshipman served made a favorable report 
on his aptitude for the service, at the end of six 
months a warrant was given to him creating him 
midshipman. He was then what was called a warrant 
officer, but not a commissioned officer, — a most im- 
portant distinction at that time, for there was an 
impassable gulf between those two classes, to which 
all can testify who have gone through the mill. The 
warrant man was often made to feel by the commis- 
sion man that he was not only an inferior officer, but 
an inferior being altogether. 

There was no such thing as a Naval School deserv- 
ing the name. Midshipmen were sent to the Naval 
Asylum at Philadelphia (a sort of sailors' home) after 
six years' service, and there made a kind of prepara- 
tion for examination, but there was no organization. 
They did as they pleased, — studied or idled, as 



No. 46] Midshipman s Life 187 

suited their whims. There was a professor of mathe- 
matics, and also a professor of French ; there was no 
discipHne. 

In the spring of 1841 I was ordered to the Receiv- 
ing-Ship NortJi Carolina at New York, This hne-of- 
battle ship was utiUzed for the purpose of receiving 
on board enUsted men, who were detained there until 
they were drafted for some sea-going ship. On 
board the Old North, as we used to call her, there 
was a professor of mathematics of the name of Ward, 
and there was some pretence of having school, but it 
did not amount to much. All that I remember is 
that I was taught some expressions, such as " diff.," 
"lat.," and "departure," but I do not think I had the 
most remote idea what they meant. I have never 
forgotten how the professor, when twelve o'clock was 
sounded, always sent for his plate of ship's soup, 
which was served to the crew, and how he smacked 
his lips and enjoyed it, which, indeed, we all did, for 
I remember how exceedingly good it was. 

There were two messes for the midshipmen on 
board the North Carolina, — one, the gun-room mess, 
as it was called, and the other the steerage mess. I 
was assigned to the steerage, where we lived like 
pigs. The gun-room was far more respectable. 
Things became so bad in the steerage that it was 
finally abandoned, and we were transferred to the 
gun-room, much to my dehght. I formed friend- 
ships there that were continued throughout my ser- 
vice, and my whole condition was very much changed 
for the better. 

During the summer months the ship was anchored 
off the Battery, and, to some extent, the duties were 
much the same as those performed in a regular 



I 8 8 Boy Soldiers and Sailo?'s [No. 46 

cruiser. We had our watches to keep and our duties 
to perform, but there was not much to point her out 
as a war machine. There had been a long peace, 
and such training as now takes place on board our 
ships of war was not even dreamed of then. Indeed, 
there was comparatively little of it in our regular 
cruisers. 

I made several ineffectual attempts during the 
summer to get orders to sea. Finally in September, 
I was ordered to the Frigate United States^ which was 
fitting out at the Norfolk Navy Yard. 

I reported at the Norfolk Yard to Commodore 
Warrington early in October, and, as the ship was 
not yet ready to receive the officers and crew, re- 
mained for several days at French's Hotel. I never 
shall forget how good the Lynn Haven Bay oysters 
tasted, when the negro waiters produced them before 
me, with the exclamation, " Navy officers very fond 
of oysters ! " and I remeriiber to have enjoyed my 
few days of ease there very much indeed. I met at 
the hotel my future messmates, who were to be my 
close companions for three years. There we formed 
our plans for messing, and discussed the coming 
cruise with that enthusiasm which belongs to youth 
alone. 

We were not permitted long to enjoy our ease. 
Orders came for us to prepare on board the frigate, 
and we were placed in our proper messes in the 
steerage, had our places in watches and divisions 
assigned to us, and soon settled down to regular 
work. I was put in the larboard mess, — somehow, 
for what reason I do not know, regarded as the swell 
place. 

After many trials and vicissitudes, we finally settled 



No. 47] L.ieute?tant Grant 189 

down to the regular routine of a man-of-war. We 
elected a caterer of the mess, and lived comfortably 
enough for the time. Our trials came on with the 
night, for, as I have said, our mess-room, which was 
our bed-room also, was about large enough fairly to 
accommodate two people, yet twelve of us were 
huddled together in this apartment like so many pigs 
in a pen. Our hammocks, instead of lying loose to 
the sport of the wind, formed a sort of continuous 
sheet of canvas, dotted over with mattresses. We 
could neither turn in or out of them without disturb- 
ing our neighbors, causing growling and quarrelling 
which often led to serious consequences. I think 
there was but one basin for the morning toilet, — at 
the most, two, — but we made the best of our incon- 
veniences, and accepted the situation with a good 
grace. Ranged around this luxurious apartment 
were the lockers for our clothes. They were not 
ample, but we accommodated ourselves to their 
capacity, and managed to get on with small ward- 
robes. We were permitted to go on shore occasion- 
ally, when we laid in our private stores, books for 
our journals, our quadrants, etc. 



47. A Young Officer in the War 

By Second Lieutenant Ulysses Simpson Grant (1847) 

I WAS with the earliest of the troops to enter the This attack 

Mills. In passing through to the north side, looking chapu,tepe°^ 

towards Chapultepec, I happened to notice that there preceded the 

were armed Mexicans still on top of the building, c^P'^^e of 

1 r r r r xr , ° ' thC City of 

only a few feet from many of our men. Not seemg Mexico. 



190 Boy Soldiers and Sailors [No. 47 

any stairway or ladder reaching to the top of the 
building, I took a few soldiers, and had a cart that 
happened to be standing near brought up, and, plac- 
ing the shafts against the wall and chocking the 
wheels so that the cart could not back, used the 
shafts as a sort of ladder extending to within three or 
four feet of the top. By this I cUmbed to the roof 
of the building, followed by a few men, but found a 
private soldier had preceded me by some other way. 
There were still quite a number of Mexicans on the 
roof, among them a major and five or six officers of 
lower grades, who had not succeeded in getting away 
before our troops occupied the building. They still 
had their arms, while the soldier before mentioned 
was walking as sentry, guarding the prisoners he had 
surrounded, all by himself. I halted the sentinel, 
received the swords from the commissioned officers, 
and proceeded, with the assistance of the soldiers 
now with me, to disable the muskets by striking them 
against the edge of the wall, and throw them to the 
ground below. 

During the night of the nth, batteries were estab- 
lished which could play upon the fortifications of 
Chapultepec. The bombardment commenced early 
on the morning of the I2th, but there was no further 
engagement during this day than that of the artillery. 
Later in the day in reconnoitring I found a church 
off to the south of the road, which looked to me as if 
the belfry would command the ground back of the 
garita San Cosme. I got an officer of the voltigeurs, 
with a mountain howitzer and men to work it, to go 
with me. The road being in possession of the enemy, 
we had to take the field to the south to reach the 
church. When I knocked for admission a priest 



No. 47] I^ieute?iant Grarit 191 

came to the door, who, while extremely polite, de- 
cHned to admit us. With the Httle Spanish then at 
my command, I explained to him that he might save 
property by opening the door, and he certainly would 
save himself from becoming a prisoner, for a time at 
least ; and besides, I intended to go in whether he 
consented or not. He began to see his duty in the 
same light that I did, and opened the door, though 
he did not look as if it gave him special pleasure to 
do so. The gun was carried to the belfry and put 
together. We were not more than two or three 
hundred yards from San Cosme. The shots from 
our little gun dropped in upon the enemy and created 
great confusion. Why they did not send out a small 
party and capture us, I do not know. We had no 
infantry or other defences besides our one gun. 

The effect of this gun upon the troops about the 
gate of the city was so marked that General Worth 
saw it from his position. He was so pleased that he 
sent a staff officer. Lieutenant Pemberton, to bring 
me to him. He expressed his gratification at the 
services the howitzer in the church steeple was doing, 
saying that every shot was effective, and ordered a 
captain of voltigeurs to report to me with another 
howitzer to be placed along with the one already 
rendering so much service. I could not tell the Gen- 
eral that there was not room enough in the steeple 
for another gun, because he probably would have 
looked upon such a statement as a contradiction from 
a second lieutenant. I took the captain with me, but 
did not use his gun. 



192 Boy Soldiers a7id Sailors [no. 48 
48. A Southern Officer to his Boys 

By Captain Robert E. Lee (1847) 
Ship Massachusetts, off Lobos, February ^ 27, 1847 

This was the My DEAR BoYS : I received your letters with the 
later Confed- o-reatest pleasure, and, as I always like to talk to you 

erateGeneral f , , t -n \ ■ 1 ./ 

Lee. both together, I will not separate you in my letters, 

but write one to you both. I was much gratified to 
hear of your progress at school, and hope that you 
will continue to advance, and that I shall have the 
happiness of finding you much improved in all your 
studies on my return. I shall not feel my long sepa- 
ration from you, if I find that my absence has been 
of no injury to you, and that you have both grown in 
goodness and knowledge, as well as stature. But, 
ah ! how much I will suffer on my return, if the re- 
verse has occurred ! You enter all my thoughts, into 
all my prayers ; and on you, in part, will depend 
whether I shall be happy or miserable, as you know 
how much I love you. You must do all in your power 
to save me pain. 

You will learn, by my letter to your grandmother, that 
I have been to Tampico. I saw many things to remind 
me of you, though that was not necessary to make 
me wish that you were with me. The river was so 
calm and beautiful, and the boys were playing about 
in boats, and swimming their ponies. Then there 
were troops of donkeys carrying water through the 
streets. They had a kind of saddle, something like 
a cart-saddle, though larger, that carried two ten-gal- 
lon kegs on each side, which was a load for a donkey. 
They had no bridles on, but would come along in 



No. 48] 



Lee s Letter 



193 



strings to the river, and, as soon as their kegs were 
filled, start off again. They were fatter and sleeker 
than any donkeys I had ever seen before, and seemed 
to be better cared for. I saw a great many ponies, 




TAD LINCOLN. 



too. They were larger than those in the upper 
country, but did not seem so enduring. I got one to 
ride around the fortifications. He had a Mexican bit 
and saddle on, and paced delightfully, but, every time 
my sword struck him on the flanks, would jump and 
try to run off. Several of them had been broken to 



1 94 ^^J Soldiers a?id Sailors [no. 48 

harness by the Americans, and I saw some teams, in 
wagons, driven four-in-hand, well matched and trot- 
ting well. 

We had a grand parade on General Scott's arrival. 
The troops were all drawn up on the bank of the 
river, and fired a salute as he passed them. He 
landed at the market, where lines of sentinels were 
placed to keep off the crowd. In front of the landing 
the artillery was drawn up, which received him in the 
centre of the column, and escorted him through the 
streets to his lodgings. They had provided a hand- 
some gray horse, richly caparisoned, for him, but he 
preferred to walk, with his staff around him, and a 
dragoon led the horse behind us. The windows along 
the streets we passed were crowded with people, and 
the boys and girls were in great glee, the Governor's 
Island band playing all the time. 

There were six thousand soldiers in Tampico. Mr. 
Barry was the adjutant of the escort. I think you would 
have enjoyed with me the oranges and sweet-potatoes. 
Major Smith became so fond of the chocolate that I 
could hardly get him away from the house. We only 
remained there one day. I have a nice state-room 
on board this ship ; Joe Johnston and myself occupy 
it, but my poor Joe is so sick all the time I can do 
nothing with him. I left Jem to come on with the 
horses, as I was afraid they would not be properly 
cared for. Vessels were expressly fitted up for the 
horses, and parties of dragoons detailed to take care 
of them. I had hoped they would reach here by this 
time, as I wanted to see how they were fixed. I took 
every precaution for their comfort, provided them 
with bran, oats, etc., and had slings made to pass 
under them and attached to the coverings above, so 



No. 48] Lees Letter ^ 195 

that, if in the heavy sea they should slip, or be thrown 
off their feet, they could not fall. 

I had to sell my good old horse Jim, as I could not 
find room for him, or, rather, I did not want to crowd 
the others. I know I shall want him when I land. 
Creole was the admiration of every one at Brazos, 
and they hardly believed she had carried me so far, 
and looked so well. Jem says there is nothing like 
her in all the country, and I believe he likes her 
better than Tom or Jerry. The sorrel mare did not 
appear to be so well after I got to the Brazos. I had to 
put one of the men on her, whose horse had given out, 
and the saddle hurt her back. She had gotten well, 
however, before I left, and I told Jem to ride her 
every day, I hope they may both reach the shore 
again in safety, but I fear they will have a hard time. 
They will first have to be put aboard a steamboat and 
carried to the ship that lies about two miles out at 
sea, then hoisted in,' and how we shall get them 
ashore again, I do not know ; probably throw them 
overboard, and let them swim there. 

I do not think we shall remain here more than one 
day longer. General Worth's and General Twiggs's 
divisions have arrived, which include the regulars, 
and I suppose the volunteers will be coming on every 
day. We shall probably go on the ist down the 
coast, select a place for debarkation, and make all the 
arrangements preparatory to the arrival of the troops. 
I shall have plenty to do there, and am anxious for 
the time to come, and hope all may be successful. 
Tell Rob he must think of me very often, be a good 
boy, and always love papa. Take care of Speck and 
the colts. Mr. Sedgwick and all the officers send 
their love to you. 



196 Boy Soldiers and Sailors [No. 49 

The ship rolls so that I can scarcely write. You must 
write to me very often. I am always very glad to 
hear from you. Be sure that I am thinking of you, 
and that you have the prayers of your affectionate 
father, 

R. E. Lee. 



49. The Drummer Boy of Marble- 
head 

Ho ! arms to strike and forward feet, 

Ere dries the blood by dastards shed ! 
While scowls and gleaming eyes that meet 

Bewail our murdered dead. 
From Berkshire's mountains to the Bay, 

Her rally Massachusetts rings. 
Curse on the faltering step to-day 

That shame upon her brings ! 

This April day which frowning dies. 

Betrothed in its natal hour 
To hills that prop New England's skies, 

Brought vengeance for its dower : 
Then arms to strike and forward feet, 

Ere dries our blood by dastards shed ! 
For men, upon each village street 

Are mustering, as at Marblehead. 

Pauses a homeward schoolboy there ; 

Absorbed in thought he stands ; 
While patriots pass with brows of care, 

And muskets in their hands. 



No. 49] The D?'ummer Boy 197 

Then starting, to a comrade spoke 
That gallant boy of Marblehead : 

" The tether of my books is broke, 
Brace me the drum instead ! " 



Now serried ranks are slanting grim 

Their bayonets in the summer beams ; 
And, keeping step to Freedom's hymn. 

Southward the column streams. 
" Your blessing, mother ! cease to cry. 

There really is no cause for dread ; 
Our grand old tunes will make them fly ! 

Said the bold boy of Marblehead. 

New England's sons were smiting sore, 

With whistling ball and sabre stroke. 
The rebel rout which fast before 

Fled for the swamps of Roanoke. 
And in that hour of steel and flame. 

On and exultant, still there led. 
While falling foemen felt his aim. 

The drummer-boy of Marblehead. 

" Once more we'll have our good old air, 

'Tis fitting on this glorious field, 
'Twill quell the traitors in their lair, 

And teach them how to yield ! " 
It swelled, to stir our hearts like flame ; 

Then back a hostile bullet sped. 
And Death delivered up to Fame 

The drummer-boy of Marblehead. 



Johnny Mc- 



198 Boy Soldiers and Sailors [No. 50 
50. A Boy Soldier 

When the Tenth Indiana was recruited in the fall 
Laughiinwas ^f jggj^ t^ev took for their drummer a little fellow 

the youn*''est 

enlisted to\- named Johnny McLaughhn, whose parents reside at 
dierinthe Lafayette, Indiana. He was then a little over ten 
^^^^' years of age, and beat his tattoo at the head of the 

regiment for several months of active service. 

At Donelson and at Shiloh, when the drum-beats 
were drowned in the deeper roar of battle, Johnny 
laid down his sticks, and taking the musket and car- 
tridge box from a dea;d soldier, went out to the front, 
and fought as bravely as the stoutest soldier in the 
regiment. Escaping unhurt in each of these engage- 
ments, he was enamoured of soldier life, and sought 
a transfer from the infantry to Colonel Jacob's Ken- 
tucky cavalry. Being favorably impressed with the 
spirit and zeal of the young warrior. Colonel Jacob 
put him into his best company, and mounted him on 
a good horse. At the engagement at Richmond, 
which soon followed, in the summer of 1862, he 
fought with as much coolness and skill as any of his 
company, handling his sabre, revolver, and revolving 
rifle with the address of a veteran. 

In October following, he was in another battle, at 
Perryville, where he received his first wound, a ball 
passing through the leg above the knee. 

In this engagement Colonel Jacob, with a part of 
his command, was temporarily separated from the 
greater part of the regiment, and while thus cut off 
was attacked by a largely superior force of the 
enemy, led by a Major. Colonel Jacob was deliber- 
ating for a moment on the demand to surrender, when 



No. 50] 



A Boy Soldier 



99 



the little hero drew his pistol and shot the Major 
in the mouth, killing him instantly. A few moments 
of confusion and delay followed in the rebel regiment, 
during which Colonel Jacob and his men escaped. 




BOY SOLDIERS. 



A few weeks after, he was engaged in a skirmish 
with some of John Morgan's men, who were raiding 
through Kentucky, and the fighting was severe. 

Johnny was set upon by a strapping fellow, who 
gave him a pretty severe cut on the leg with his 
sabre, and knocked him off his horse. A moment 
after, another rebel seized him by the collar, and ex- 
claimed : "We've got one little Yankee, anyhow." 
The little Yankee did not see it in that light, however, 
and quickly drawing his pistol, shot his captor dead, 



2 00 Boy So/dicfs lUiii Sciilors |no. 51 

ami a niouiont alter the rebels were ri>utecl, and he 
cscapetl eapture. 

As he was i;"oini; back to liuliana on tnrlough to 
give his wound time to heal, he was stopped at one 
point by a provost giuuxl, ami his pass tlemanded. 

" O," said he, " the Colonel didn't give me one, but 
just told me to go along with the rest. But," added 
the little soldier, showing his wound, *' here's a pass 
the rebs gave me ; isn't that good enough for a little 
fellow like me ? " The guard thought it was. 

Mis wound proved quite serious, and, much to his 
surprise, and against his wishes, he received his dis- 
charge in consequence of this and his extreme youth- 
fulness. Not relishing civil lite as long as the 
hostilities lasted, he applied at a recruiting ot'tice. but 
the condition of his leg excluded him. 

Nothing daunted, however, he sought and obtained 
an interview with the President, wlu> on hearing the 
story of the boyish veteran, gave a sj^ecial order for 
his enlistment. 

He had now made up his mind to follow the life of 
a soldier, and joined the regular army of the United 
States as a bugler in the cavalry service, and makes 
as fine-looking, neat, and obedient a little dragoon as 
there is in the arm v. 



51. 'flic Loval Drummcr-Bov 

(1S60 

A FEW davs before our regiment received orders 
to join General Lvon, on his march to Wilson's Creek, 
the drummer of our company was taken sick and con- 



No. 51J 



Loval D 



?'Uffune?'- 



■Boy 



201 



vcyed to the hospital, and on the evening preceding 
the day that we were to march, a negro was arrested 
within the lines of the camp, and brought before our 
captain, who asked him what business he had within 
the lines ? He replied : " I know a drummer that 
you would like to enlist in your company, and I have 
come to tell you of it." He was immediately re- 
quested to inform the drummer that if he would en- 
list for our short term of service, he would be allowed 
extra pay, and to do this, he must be on the ground 
early in the morn- 
ing. The negro was 
then passed beyond 
the guard. 

On the following 
morning there ap- 
peared before the 
captain's quarters 
during the beating 
of the reveille, a 
good-looking, mid- 
dle-aged woman, dressed in deep mourning, leading 
by the hand a sharp, sprightly-looking boy, apparently 
about twelve or thirteen years of age. Her story was 
soon told. She was from East Tennessee, where her 
husband had been killed by the rebels, and all their 
property destroyed. She had come to St. Louis in 
search of her sister, but not finding h^, and being 
destitute of money, she thought if she could procure a 
situation for her boy as a drummer for the short time 
that we had to remain in the service, she could find 
employment for herself, and perhaps find her sister by 
the time we were discharged. 

During the rehearsal of her story the little fellow 





D.«,n^ 


>-i' 


"■^s^^^^ -1- 


-^ 


k-..;. 



A BOY'S DRUM. 



2 o 2 Boy Soldiers and Sailors [no. 51 

kept his eyes intently fixed upon the countenance of 
the captain, who was about to express a determina- 
tion not to take so small a boy, when he spoke out : 
" Don't be afraid, captain, I can drum." This was 
spoken with so much confidence, that the captain im- 
mediately observed, with a smile : " Well, well, sergeant, 
bring the drum, and order our fifer to come forward." 
In a few moments the drum was produced, and our fifer 
a tall, round-shouldered, good-natured fellow, from the 
Dubuque mines, who stood, when erect, something 
over six feet in height, soon made his appearance. 

Upon being introduced to his new comrade, he 
stooped down, with his hands resting upon his knees, 
that were thrown forward into an acute angle, and 
after peering into the little fellow's face a moment, 
he observed : " My little man, can you drum .■' " 
"Yes, sir," he replied, " I drummed for Captain Hill 
in Tennessee." Our fifer immediately commenced 
straightening himself upward until all the angles in 
his person had disappeared, when he placed his fife 
at his mouth, and played the " Flowers of Edinbor- 
ough," one of the most difficult things to follow with 
the drum that could have been selected, and nobly 
did the little fellow follow him, showing himself to be 
a master of the drum. When the music ceased, our 
captain turned to the mother and observed : " Madam, 
I will take your boy. What is his name .■* " " Ed- 
ward Lee," she replied; then placing her hand upon 
the captain's arm, she continued, " Captain, if he is 
not killed" — here her maternal feelings overcame 
her utterance, and she bent down over her boy and 
kissed him upon the forehead. As she arose, she 
observed, " Captain, you will bring him back with 
you, won't you t " 



No. 51] Loyal Drumme?^-Boy 203 

" Yes, yes," he replied, " we will be certain to 
bring him back with us. We shall be discharged in 
six weeks." 

In an hour after, our company led the Iowa First 
out of camp, our drum and fife playing " The girl I 
left behind me." Eddie, as we called him, soon be- 
came a great favorite with all the men in the com- 
pany. When any of the boys had returned from a 
horticultural excursion, Eddie's share of the peaches 
and melons was the first apportioned out. During 
our heavy and fatiguing march from Rolla to Spring- 
field, it was often amusing to see our long-legged fifer 
wading through the mud with our little drummer 
mounted upon his back, and always in that position 
when fording streams. 

During the fight at Wilson's Creek I was stationed 
with a part of our company on the right of Totten's 
battery, while the balance of our company, with a 
part of the Illinois regiment, was ordered down into 
a deep ravine upon our left, in which it was known a 
portion of the enemy was concealed, with whom they 
were soon engaged. The contest in the ravine con- 
tinuing some time, Totten suddenly wheeled his bat- 
tery upon the enemy in that quarter, when they soon 
retreated to the high ground behind their lines. In 
less than twenty minutes after, Totten had driven 
the enemy from the ravine, the word passed from 
man to man throughout the army, " Lyon is killed ! " 
and soon after, hostihties having ceased upon both 
sides, the order came for our main force to fall back 
upon Springfield, while a part of the Iowa First and 
two companies of the Missouri regiment were to camp 
upon the ground and cover the retreat next morning. 
That night I was detailed for guard duty, my turn of 



2 04 Boy Soldiers and Sailors lno. 51 

guard closing with the morning call. When I went 
out with the officer as a relief, I found that my post 
was upon a high eminence that overlooked the deep 
ravine in which our men had engaged the enemy, 
until Totten's battery came to their assistance. It 
was a dreary, lonesome beat. The moon had gone 
down in the early part of the night, while the stars 
twinkled dimly through a hazy atmosphere, lighting 
up imperfectly the surrounding objects. Occasion- 
ally I would place my ear near the ground and listen 
for the sound of footsteps, but all was silent save the 
far-off howling of the wolf, that seemed to scent upon 
the evening air the banquet that we had been pre- 
paring for him. The hours passed slowly away, 
when at length the morning light began to streak 
along the eastern sky, making surrounding objects 
more plainly visible. Presently I heard a drum beat 
up the morning call. At first I thought it came from 
the camp of the enemy across the creek ; but as I 
listened, I found that it came up from the deep ra- 
vine ; for a few minutes it was silent, and then as it 
became more light I heard it again. I listened — the 
sound of the drum was famihar to me — and I knew 
that it was our drummer-boy from Tennessee. 

I was about to desert my post to go to his assist- 
ance, when I discovered the officer of the guard 
approaching with two men. We all listened to the 
sound, and were satisfied that it was Eddie's drum. 
I asked permission to go to his assistance. The offi- 
cer hesitated, saying that the orders were to march in 
twenty minutes. I promised to be back in that time, 
and he consented. I immediately started down the 
hill through the thick undergrowth, and upon reach- 
ing the valley I followed the sound of the drum, and 



No. 51] Loyal Drummer-Boy 205 

soon found him seated upon the ground, his back 
leaning against the trunk of a fallen tree, while his 
drum hung upon a bush in front of him, reaching 
nearly to the ground. As soon as he discovered me 
he dropped his drumsticks and exclaimed, " O Cor- 
poral ! I am so glad to see you. Give me a drink," 
reaching out his hand for my canteen, which was 
empty. I immediately turned to bring him some 
water from the brook that I could hear rippling 
through the bushes near by, when, thinking that I 
was about to leave him, he commenced crying, say- 
ing : "Don't leave me. Corporal — I can't walk." I 
was soon back with the water, when I discovered 
that both of his feet had been shot away by a cannon- 
ball. After satisfying his thirst, he looked up into 
my face and said : " You don't think I will die. Cor- 
poral, do you .'' This man said I would not — he said 
the surgeon could cure my feet." I now discovered 
a man lying in the grass near him. By his dress I 
recognized him as belonging to the enemy. It ap- 
peared that he had been shot and fallen near where 
Eddie lay. Knowing that he could not live, and see- 
ing the condition of the boy, he had crawled to him, 
taken off his buckskin suspenders, and corded the 
little fellow's legs below the knee, and then laid down 
and died. While he was telling me these particulars, 
I heard the tramp of cavalry coming down the ra- 
vine, and in a moment a scout of the enemy was upon 
us, and I was taken prisoner. I requested the offi- 
cer to take Eddie up in front of him, and he did so, 
carrying him with great tenderness and care. When 
we reached the camp of the enemy the little fellow 
was dead. 



2o6 Boy Soldiers a?id Sailors [no. 52 
52. The Dead Drummer-Boy 

'Midst tangled roots that lined the wild ravine 

Where the fierce fight raged hottest through the day, 
And where the dead in scattered heaps were seen, 
Amid the darkling forest ; shade and sheen, 
Speechless in death he lay. 



The setting sun, which glanced athwart the place 

In slanting lines, like amber-tinted rain. 
Fell sidewise on the drummer's upturned face, 
Where death had left his gory finger's trace 
In one bright crimson stain. 



The silken fringes of his once bright eye 

Lay like a shadow on his cheek so fair ; 

His lips were parted by a long-drawn sigh, 

That with his soul had mounted to the sky. 

On some wild martial air. 



No more his hand the fierce tattoo shall beat. 

The shrill reveille, or the long roll's call. 
Or sound the charge, when in the smoke and heat 
Of fiery onset, foe with foe shall meet, 
And gallant men shall fall. 

Yet may be in some happy home, that one, 
A mother, reading from the list of dead. 
Shall chance to view the name of her dear son. 
And move her lips to say, " God's will be done ! " 
And bow in grief her head. 



Evans rose to 
be an admi- 
ral and dis- 



No. 53] Dead D?'ummer-Boy 207 

But more than this what tongue shall tell his story ? 

Perhaps his boyish longings were for fame ; 
He lived, he died ; and so, memento mori, — 
Enough if on the page of War and Glory 
Some hand has writ his name. 



53. A Middy's Experiences 

By Roblev D. Evans (1862) 

In June, 1862, we started on our first real practice Midshipman 
cruise, using for the purpose the sloop of war,y^//« 
Adams. We were crowded into her like sardines in 
a box, and had no end of hard work, with whatever tingu'shed 

, , _ , 1 11 • 11 1 T 1 himself in the 

we could find to eat, and all m all about as httle com- Spanish War 
fort as a set of youngsters ever experienced; but we of 1898. 
made great headway in learning our business as sea- 
men. The ship was uncomfortable, as all her class 
were, but at the same time seaworthy and safe. She 
would run well when off the wind, but with everything 
braced sharp up when there was any sea on she 
would butt three times at a sea and then go round 
it. Before the wind she rolled so that all hands had 
trouble in sleeping at night ; but with all her defects 
she carried us safely as far south as Port Royal, 
South Carolina, and brought us safely back to 
Newport. 

At Port Royal we saw Admiral Dupont's splendid 
fleet, comprising many of the finest ships in the navy. 
Among them all the Wabash seemed to me the most 
perfect. 

I shall always remember an incident of my visit to 
this ship. As we went over the side, a large black 



2o8 Boy Soldiers and Sailors [no. 53 

bear stood on his hind legs at the gangway, among 
the side boys, hat in hand, and saluting each officer 
as he went on board. I saw him as I came up the 
side, and not proposing to give him a chance at me, 
jumped for the main chains and went over that way, 
much to the amusement of the officers. A short time 
after this, his bearship came to grief, and had to be 
sent on shore. He was very fond of alcohol, and, 
having filled up and become ugly, turned into the 
bunk of one of the lieutenants, who, finding his bed 
occupied, turned in somewhere else, until his time 
came for duty. The quartermaster being sent down 
during the night to call the lieutenant, and getting no 
answer, undertook to awake him by shaking him, which 
so enraged the bear in his half-drunken condition, that 
he bit the quartermaster so badly that he lost one of 
his legs. 

During this cruise the midshipmen were stationed 
as a crew for the vessel, and did all the work of the 
different ratings. When off Hatteras on our way 
North our efficiency was thoroughly tested. At 
about ten o'clock the ship was struck by a sudden 
heavy squall, accompanied by rain and hail. All 
hands were called to reef topsails, the watch on 
deck having successfully handled the light sails. 
We were close enough to the Diamond Shoal to 
make haste a matter of importance, and' the officers 
hustled us up without much ceremony. The topsails 
were quickly reefed, and I had just secured the lee 
earing on the main topsail yard when I heard the 
order, " Hoist away the topsails ! " I was straddling 
the yard at that time, and just about to swing to the foot 
rope and lay down from aloft ; but I changed my mind 
very suddenly, and instead hugged the topsail yard, 



No. 53] Middy s Experiences 209 

until I am sure you could have found the marks of 
my arms on the paint. It was as black as a pocket, 
raining in torrents, and as the yards were braced up 
the topsails filled and the ship made a butt at a 
heavy sea. I thought my time had come. I reached 
the deck, however, in safety, only to be properly 
dressed down by the ofificer of the deck for being slow 
in laying down from aloft. We were back at Newport 
again in September, better for our work, and ready to 
enjoy the short leave that was then given us. 

During the winter of this year I again made acquaint- The famous 
ance with the dark room on board the Constitution. UkThl^'''^ 
Two of us were walking about during the evening in Java in 1313. 
the park opposite our quarters, when I saw a watch- 
man sneaking through the trees to catch some 
fellows who were violating regulations. The chance 
was very tempting, and without waiting to count the 
cost I landed a good-sized stone fairly behind the 
watchman's ear, sending him to the hospital for 
repairs. Unfortunately for me, there was a citizen 
nearby who gave the commandant so good a descrip- 
tion of me that I was sent for the next morning, and 
promptly sent on board ship and locked up. This 
was bad enough in all reason, but I soon made it 
worse. The officer of the day, wishing to show 
proper respect for a senior, smuggled me a novel 
and a candle, and, having arranged my blanket so 
as to shut out curious eyes, I read my novel in 
peace until the sentry, a sailor with a cutlass, pried 
the blanket to one side. I blew the candle out at 
once, and then arranged the spring in the candle- 
stick, so that I could shoot the candle out when 
necessary. Then I Hghted it again, and taking a 
position favorable for my purpose, I waited for the 



2 I o Boy Soldiers aJtd Sailors [no. 54 

sailor; and, as he again cautiously pried the blanket 
aside, I fired the candle through the opening. Unfor- 
tunately it struck Jackey in the eye, and thinking his 
head was shot off he bolted from his station. 

In short while the commanding officer was on the 
scene, and then an end was put to my sport. I was 
marched out, the room searched, the door boarded 
up solid, and the key again turned on me. This 
time there was not the least semblance of fun about 
it. For two weeks I was kept locked up and then 
released ; but for several days I could do nothing as 
the light hurt my eyes dreadfully. It seemed to 
require a very practical demonstration to convince 
me that I had to do as I was told. This last expe- 
rience went a long way in that direction. 



54. Gone to the War 

By Horatio Alger, Jr. (i86i) 

Mv Charlie has gone to the war. 
My Charlie so brave and tall ; 

He left his plough in the furrow 
And flew at his country's call. 

May God in safety keep him, 
My precious boy — my all. 

My heart is pining to see him, 

I miss him every day ; 
My heart is weary with waiting. 

And sick of the long delay. 
But I know his country needs him. 

And I could not bid him stay. 



No. 54] Gone to the War 211 

I remember how his face flushed, 

And how his color came, 
When the flash from the guns of Sumter 

Lit the whole land with flame, 
And darkened our country's banner 

With the crimson hue of shame. 

"Mother," he said, then faltered, ^ — 

I felt his mute appeal ; 
I paused, — if you are a mother, 

You know what mothers feel. 
When called to yield their dear ones 

To the cruel bullet and steel. 

My heart stood still for a moment. 

Struck with a mighty woe ; 
A faint of death came o'er me, — 

I am a mother, you know, — 
But I sternly checked my weakness, 

And firmly bade him " Go." 

Wherever the fight is fiercest 

I know that my boy will be ; 
Wherever the need is sorest 

Of the stout arms of the free. 
May he prove as true to his country 

As he has been true to me ! 

My home is lonely without him. 

My heart bereft of joy, — 
The thought of him who has left me 

My constant, sad employ ; 
But God has been good to the mother ; 

She shall not blush for her boy. 



2 12 Bojy Soldiers and Sailors [no. 55 



^^, A Boy who won the Cross 

By a Southern Lady (1863) 

The expected battle has not yet come off, and 
I am still awaiting the result ; busying myself about 
many things, visiting and returning visits from my 




^- .-...« 



GENERAL CUSTER. 

old friends ; dividing my time between the world and 
the hospital, the lights and shades of life. Ah, the 
shades ! My dear Jennie, you can little imagine 
how much suffering I have witnessed in the last few 
weeks — how much, that acts or kind words have no 
power to mitigate. There have been many wounded 



No. 55] A Boy wins the C?^oss 213 

brought in from Corinth, many who have died since 
their arrival, many who will die ; but, saddest of all, 
a young boy, too young to be a soldier, yet possessing 
all a soldier's spirit. I walked into a ward, one morn- 
ing, that I had visited the evening before — a ward 
of very sick patients — and saw an old man sitting 
by a new cot, fanning a young boy, who lay with 
flushed face, and burning eyes fixed on the ceiling. 
As I advanced toward them, the weather-bronzed 
man stood stiffly erect, making me a quaint, half- 
awkward, military salute, saying, as he did so, " My 
boy, ma'am ! " " Is he wounded } " I asked. He 
threw back the sheet that covered him, pointed to 
the stump of a limb amputated near the thigh ; " He 
has gained the cross," he said, while his head grew 
more erect, as he held back the sheet with the fan, 
and his eye shot out the grim ghost of a smile. 

A proud, iron soldier the man was, I could see. 
The boy was delirious ; so I shall tell you of the 
man. Refusing to be seated as long as a lady re- 
mained standing in the room, he stood stiffly upright 
at the head of the cot, keeping each fly from the face 
of the boy with the tenderness of a mother. A limp 
brown hat was on the side of his head, shading his 
eyes, that followed me in all parts of the room. A 
red cord and tassel hung from one side of his hat, 
and gave him a jaunty air that was quite out of keep- 
ing with the quaint stiffness of his manner. After 
speaking to the sick and wounded soldiers around, 
asking after their wounds and wants, I returned to 
the young boy's cot, and heard the old man's story. 
Don't be weary if I give it to you ; he had so much 
pride in his boy, let that be my extenuation. 

"We belong to the Texas Rangers, ma'am, the 



2 14 ^oy Soldiers and SatIo?^s [no. 55 

boy and me ; he could ride as well as the rest of 
them, ma'am, a year ago. When the war broke out, 
and we practised regularly, he was the best rider in 
the company — could pick anything he wanted off 
the ground as he was going. He's only fourteen, 
ma'am — a fine-grown lad, indeed. His mother was 
the likeliest woman I ever saw," with a deprecating 
bow to me ; " he's got her eyes — the finest eyes 
God ever made, she had, ma'am. She died when 
quite young, leaving him to me, a little shaver, and 
he's been by me ever since. The boys and me tried 
to overpersuade him out of the army ; 'peared like 
he was too young for such business ; but he wouldn't 
hear to it, not he, ma'am, and here he is," passing 
his sleeve across his eyes. 

" Well, ma'am, so he staid with us ; and when we 
got to Corinth, General Beauregard offered a cross 
of honor to the ones that showed themselves the best 
soldiers. So our boys talked a heap about who'd get 
it ; but this boy says nothing. Well, one day we 
were ordered out to scout, and we came up with the 
Yankees, and we fought 'em a half hour or so, when 
I saw this youngster by my side kind of drooping by 
a tree, but standing his ground. Well, we routed 
them at last, when I found the boy's leg was all 
shattered, and he had kept up as though nothing 
was the matter. So when we went back to Corinth, 
it got noised about from the soldiers to the officers 
— how he'd held out. And, more'n all, the time 
when his leg was being cut off, we couldn't get any 
chloroform, morphine, or the like : he just sit up hke 
a brave lad, and off it went, without a word out of 
him. So the doctors they talked of that ; and he's 
been notified that he'll get the first cross, and the 



No. 55] A Boy wins the Cross 215 

boys'll be monstrous fond of him, and feel most like 
they'd got it themselves. If he'd get rid of his fever 
and pick up like, I'd be a happy man," he said 
anxiously. 

The boy that gained a double cross at Corinth has 
closed his eyes softly and calmly. Suffering will 
never disturb him more. He is dead. The old man 
has gone back to his company with spasms of pain 
in his heart, of which the world will never know. 

Let me tell you of the man's devotion. The boy's 
fever still raged, with slighter and slighter intervals. 
The medicine failed to procure the desired effect. 
The physicians looked anxious as they approached 
his cot. I wanted to take the old man's hand and 
tell him of the Friend in heaven, from whom death 
itself can never separate us ; but a foolish fear with- 
held me. One night the physicians met around the 
little cot, the old man, as usual when others were 
near, standing stiffly at the head, yet, with alarmed 
and burning eyes, intently reading each face. A sad 
reading, hopeless — the eyes told that, while the hand 
sought the faintly beating pulse. " Doctor, may I try 
to save my boy my own way } " said the old man, fol- 
lowing the physician into the hall. " Yes, do as you 
choose with him, only do not give him unnecessary 
pain." 

In the morning a large tub of cold water was taken 
to the ward and placed by the sick boy's cot ; and, to 
the dismay of the soldiers in the beds around, the boy 
was lifted out, wounded as he was, by the strong and 
gentle arms of one in whose eyes he was more pre- 
cious than the rarest of diamonds and gold. A quick 
douse, and he was rubbed well, covered closely, and 
soon slept soundly, the perspiration breaking out pro- 



2 1 6 Boy Soldiers and Sailors [no. 55 

fusely for the first time in two days. He was decid- 
edly better, and the proud smile on the father's face 
was a happy thing to see. Gradually he grew more 
feeble, the fever returned, and one morning, with an 
aching heart, I saw the calmness of death in the 
closed eyes and motionless nostril. Standing at the 
head of the bed, his hat drawn over his eyes, his arms 
folded in a stern and patient agony, the father stood 
watching yet, most faithfully. I cannot express to 
you the grief that my sympathy brought — the grief, 
and constantly the words : " Alone ! all alone ! My 
boy ! oh, my boy ! " 

The ladies' wished to have a large funeral over the 
brave, young soldier ; but the physicians would not 
consent to having him buried in town, saying that the 
soldiers were all worthy of attention, and that no dis- 
tinction could be allowed. So, before he was buried, 
I went out to the hospital and looked my last on the 
young, dead face, from which all trace of suffering 
had fled : only peace and rest now forever ! 

Pain and anguish were making a deep impress on 
the face of the man by the head : the drawn lines of 
watching and suffering were more evident, as with a 
strained smile, and almost a gasp of pain, he thanked 
me for the interest I had taken. " Everybody is so 
kind! " he said. He had gone into town that morn- 
ing and purchased a little black coat, placing it on 
the small form. A black velvet vest, white bosom, 
and the cravat tied over the white, boyish throat, told 
of the tenderness that shrank not from the coldness 
of death. 

" He's like his mother, ma'am, more than ever, 
now," he whispered, softly drawing the sheet over 
the inanimate form ; and turning squarely around, 



No. 56] A Visit from Neptune 217 

with his back to me, I saw him draw again and 
again his sleeve across his eyes. 



56. A Visit from Neptune 

By Cornelius E. Hunt (1863) 

It is a custom as old as saiUng, for aught I know, 
for every armed vessel on passing the equator to re- 
ceive a visit from his aquatic Godship Neptune, who 
is supposed to hold his court in that locality, suffer- 
ing no ship to pass until he has satisfied himself by 
personal inspection that there are none on board but 
regularly initiated sailors ; that is, those who have 
previously crossed the line and submitted to his 
initiatory rites. We had a number of novices among 
officers and men, and consequently the event was 
anticipated with even more than ordinary interest. 

It was just gone eight bells in the evening, when a 
rough voice over the bows was heard hailing the ship. 

" What's wanting } " said the officer of the deck. 

" Heave to. I want to come on board," was the 
surly response. 

The requisite orders were given, and a few mo- 
ments after a gigantic figure was seen ascending 
the side, dressed in an oil-skin coat, and wearing a 
wig of Manilla yarn, which, at a little distance, had 
the appearance of yellow curly hair. 

He was accompanied by another grotesque figure 
representing his wife, and the two were followed by 
a third, who was supposed to be His Majesty's con- 
fidential barber, provided with the utensils of his call- 
ing, which consisted of a bucket of slush, and a 



2 I 8 Boy Soldiers and Sailors [no. 56 

preposterous razor, about three feet long, manufac- 
tured from an iron hoop. His Godship carried an 
immense speaking-trumpet under his arm, a trident 
in his right hand, and stepped upon the deck with all 
the dignity his assumed position warranted. 

"What ship is this .^ " he said, in an authoritative 
voice. 

"The Confederate Cruiser, Shenandoah,'' replied 
the officer of the deck, touching his hat. 

"Are there any of my subjects on board who have 
never crossed the line before } " was the next 
puestion. 

"There are several, I believe." 

" Bring them before me ! " continued his Godship, 
and thereupon such of the company as had already 
passed the ordeal dispersed in search of the novices. 

We found them stowed away in every imaginable 
place of concealment, but they were scented out, and 
dragged before the Ocean Deity, where they were 
solemnly lathered from the slush-bucket, and shaved 
with the iron hoop, according to immemorial usage. 

The frolic was kept up till a late hour, and an 
additional zest was added to the festivities by the fact 
that two or three of our youngsters actually believed 
that they had been in the presence of the veritable 
Neptune, and it was only after the expiration of a 
considerable time that they discovered that they had 
been imposed upon by some of their own shipmates. 



PART V 
IN CAMP AND ON THE MARCH 



57. March! 

By Bayard Taylor (1862) 

With rushing winds and gloomy skies 
The dark and stubborn Winter dies ; 
Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries, 
Bidding her earliest child arise : 

March ! 

By streams still held in icy snare. 
On Southern hill-sides, melting bare. 
O'er fields that motley colors wear, 
That summons fills the changeful air : 

March ! 

What though conflicting seasons make 
Thy days their field, they woo or shake 
The sleeping lids of Life awake, 
And Hope is stronger for thy sake : 

March ! 

Then from thy mountains, ribbed with snow, 
Once more thy rousing bugle blow, 
219 



Mr. Taylor, 
author of 
many excel- 
lent books, 
was later 
minister to 
Germany. 



2 2 o Camp and March [no. 58 

And East and West, and to and fro, 
Proclaim thy coming to the foe : 

March ! 

Say to the picket, chilled and numb. 
Say to the camp's impatient hum, 
Say to the trumpet and the drum : 
Lift up your hearts, I come, I come ! 
March ! 

Cry to the waiting hosts that stray 
On sandy sea-sides far away. 
By marshy isle and gleaming bay. 
Where Southern March is Northern May : 

March! 

Announce thyself with welcome noise. 
Where Glory's victor-eagles poise 
Above the proud, heroic boys 
Of Iowa and Illinois : 

March ! 

Then down the long Potomac's line 
Shout like a storm on hills of pine. 
Till ramrods ring and bayonets shine, — 
"Advance! the Chieftain's call is mine : 
" March ! " 



58. Tent Life 

Bv John- D. Billings (i86i) 

The Sibley Enter with me into a Sibley tent which is not 

tent is shaped stockadcd. If it is cold weather, we shall find the 

like a cone. ' 

cone-shaped stove, which I have already mentioned. 



No. 58: Te?it Life 221 

standing in the centre. These stoves were useless 
for cooking purposes, and the men were Kkely to 
bum their blankets on them in the night, so that 
many of the troops utilized them by building a small 
brick or stone oven below, in which they did their 
cooking, setting the stove on top as a part of the flue. 
The length of pipe furnished by the government was 
not sufficient to reach the opening at the top, and the 
result was that unless the inmates bought more to 
piece it out, the upper part of such tent was as black 
and sooty as a chimney flue. 

The dozen men occupying a Sibley tent slept \vith 
their feet toward the centre. The choice place to 
occupy was that portion opposite the door, as one 
was not then in the way of passers in and out, al- 
though he was himself more or less of a nuisance to 
others when he came in. The tent was most crowded 
at meal times, for, owing to its shape, there can be 
no standing or sitting erect except about the centre. 
But while there was more or less growling at acci- 
dents by some, there was much forbearance by others, 
and, aside from the vexations arising from the consti- 
tutional blundering of some, these httle knots were 
quite family-Hke and sociable. 

The manner in which the time was spent in tents 
varied with the disposition of the inmates. It was not 
always practicable for men of kindred tastes to band 
themselves under the same canvas, and so just as they 
differed in their avocations as citizens, they differed in 
their social life, and many kinds of pastimes went 
on simultaneously. Of course, all wrote letters 
more or less, but there were a few men who seemed to 
spend the most of their spare time in this occupation. 
Especially was this so in the earlier part of a man's 



2 2 2 Ca)?ip and March [No. 58 

hardtack = war experience. The side or end strip of a hardtack 
hard biscuit, ^ j^gjj Qj^ ^j^g knees, constituted the writing-desk 

the ordinary ° 

substitute for on which this operation was performed. It is well 
bread. remembered that in the early months of the war silver 




WAR EN\'ELi 



money disappeared, as it commanded a premium, so 
that, change being scarce, postage stamps were used 
instead. This was before scrip was issued by the 
government to take the place of silver ; and although 
the use of stamps as change was not authorized by 



No. 58] Tent Life 223 

the national government, yet everybody took them, 
and the soldiers in particular just about to leave for 
the war carried large quantities away with them — 
not all in the best of condition. This could hardly 
be expected when they had been through so many 
hands. They were passed about in little envelopes, 
containing twenty-five and fifty cents in value. 

Many an old soldier can recall his disgust on find- 
ing what a mess his stamps were in either from rain, 
perspiration, or compression, as he attempted, after a 
hot march, to get one for a letter. If he could split 
off one from a welded mass of perhaps a hundred or 
more, he counted himself fortunate. Of course they 
could be soaked out after a while, but he would need to 
dry them on a griddle afterward, they were so sticky. 
It was later than this that the postmaster-general 
issued an order allowing soldiers to send letters with- 
out prepayment ; but, if I recollect right, it was neces- 
sary to write on the outside " Soldier's Letter." 

Besides letter-writing the various games of cards 
were freely engaged in. Many men played for 
money. Cribbage and euchre were favorite games. 
Reading was a pastime quite generally indulged in, 
and there was no novel so dull, trashy, or sensational 
as not to find some one so bored with nothing to do 
that he would wade through it. 

Chequers was a popular game among the soldiers, 
backgammon less so, and it was only rarely that the 
statelier and less familiar game of chess was to be 
observed on the board. There were some soldiers 
who rarely joined in any games. In this class were 
to be found the illiterate members of a company. Of 
course they did not read or write, and they rarely 
played cards. They were usually satisfied to lie on 



2 2 4 Camp a?td March [no. 58 

their blankets, and talk with one another, or watch 
the playing. Yes, they did have one pastime — the 
proverbial soldier's pastime of smoking. A pipe was 
their omnipresent companion, and seemed to make 
up to them in sociability for whatsoever they lacked 
of entertainment in other directions. 

One branch of business which was carried on quite 
extensively was the making of pipes and rings as 
mementos of a camp or battle-field. The pipes were 
made from the root of the mountain laurel when it 
could be had, and often ornamented with the badges 
of the various corps, either in relief or inlaid. The 
rings were made sometimes of dried horn or hoof, 
very often of bone, and some were fashioned out of 
large gutta-percha buttons which were sent from 
home. 

The evenings in camp were less occupied in game- 
playing, I should say, than the hours off duty in the 
daytime ; partly, perhaps, because the tents were 
rather dimly lighted, and partly because of a surfeit 
of such recreations by daylight. But, whatever the 
cause, I think old soldiers will generally agree in the 
statement that the evenings were the time of sociabil- 
ity and reminiscence. It was then quite a visiting 
time among soldiers of the same organization. It 
was then that men from the same town or neighbor- 
hood got together and exchanged home gossip. 
Each one would produce recent letters giving inter- 
esting information about mutual friends or acquaint- 
ances, telling that such a girl or old schoolmate was 
married ; that such a man had enlisted in such a regi- 
ment ; that another was wounded and at home on 
furlough ; that such another had been exempted from 
the forthcoming draft, because he had lost teeth ; 



No. 58] Tent Life 225 

that yet another had suddenly gone to Canada on 
important business — which was a favorite refuge for 
all those who were afraid of being forced into the 
service. 

Then, there were many men not so fortunate as to 
have enlisted with acquaintances, or to be near them 
in the army. These were wont to lie on their blank- 
ets, and join in the general conversation, or exchange 
ante-war experiences, and find much of interest in 
common ; but, whatever the number or variety of the 
evening diversions, there is not the sHghtest doubt 
that home, its inmates, and surroundings were more 
thought of and talked of then than in all the rest of 
the twenty-four hours. 

In some tents vocal or instrumental music was a 
feature of the evening. There was probably not a 
regiment in the service that did not boast at least one 
violinist, one banjoist, and a bone player in its ranks 
— not to mention other instruments generally found 
associated with these — and one or all of them could 
be heard in operation, either inside or in a company 
street, most any pleasant evening. However unskil- 
ful the artists, they were sure to be the centre of an 
interested audience. The usual medley of comic 
songs and negro melodies comprised the greater part 
of the entertainment, and, if the space admitted, a 
jig or clog dance was stepped out on a hardtack box 
or other crude platform. Sometimes a real negro 
was brought in to enliven the occasion by patting and 
dancing "Juba," or singing his quaint music. There 
were always plenty of them in or near camp ready to 
fill any gap, for they asked nothing better than to be 
with " Massa Linkum's Sojers." But the men played 
tricks of all descriptions on them, descending at times 

Q 



2 2 6 Camp and March [no. 59 

to most shameful abuse until some one interfered. 
There were a few of the soldiers who were not satis- 
fied to play a reasonable practical joke, but must bear 
down with all that the good-natured Ethiopians could 
stand, and, having the fullest confidence in the friend- 
ship of the soldiers, these poor fellows stood much 
more than human nature should be called to endure 
without a murmur. Of course they were on the look- 
out a second time. 



59. " Hardtack and Coffee " 

By John D. Billings (i86i) 

A FALSE impression has obtained more or less cur- 
rency both with regard to the quantity and quality of 
the food furnished the soldiers. I have been asked 
a great many times whether I always got enough to 
eat in the army, and have surprised inquirers by an- 
swering in the affirmative. Now, some old soldier 
may say who sees my reply, "Well, you were lucky. 
I didn't." But I should at once ask him to tell me 
for how long a time his regiment was ever without 
food of some kind. Of course, I am not now refer- 
ring to our prisoners of war, who starved by the thou- 
sands. And I should be very much surprised if he 
should say more than twenty-four or thirty hours, at 
the outside. I would grant that he himself might, 
perhaps have been so situated as to be deprived of 
food a longer time, possibly when he was on an ex- 
posed picket post, or serving as rear-guard to the 
army, or doing something which separated him tem- 
porarily from his company ; but his case would be 
the exception and not the rule. Sometimes, when 



No. 59] ^''Hardtack a?id Coffee " 227 

active operations were in progress, the army was com- 
pelled to wait a few hours for its trains to come up, 
but no general hardship to the men ever ensued on 
this account. Such a contingency was usually known 
some time in advance, and the men would husband 
their last is^ue of rations, or perhaps, if the country 
admitted, would make additions to their bill of fare in 
the shape of poultry or pork ; — usually it was the 
latter, for the Southerners do not pen up their swine 
as do the Northerners, but let them go wandering 
about, getting their living much of the time as best 
they can, 

I will now give a complete list of the rations served canned 
out to the rank and file, as I remember them. They goods were 
were salt pork, fresh beef, salt beef, rarely ham or known in the 
bacon, hard bread, soft bread, potatoes, an occasional war time. 
onion, flour, beans, split pease, rice, dried apples, dried 
peaches, desiccated vegetables, coffee, tea, sugar, 
molasses, vinegar, candles, soap, pepper, and salt. 

It is scarcely necessary to state that these were not 
all served out at one time. There was but one kind 
of meat served at once, and this, to use a Hibernian- 
ism, was usually pork. When it was hard bread, it 
wasn't soft bread or flour, and when it was pease or 
beans it wasn't rice. 

The commissioned officers fared better in camp 
than the enlisted men. Instead of drawing rations 
after the manner of the latter, they had a certain cash 
allowance, according to rank, with which to purchase 
supplies from the Brigade Commissary, an official 
whose province was to keep stores on sale for their 
convenience. 

I will speak of the rations more in detail, beginning 
with the hard bread, or, to use the name by which it 



22 



Camp and March [No. 59 



was known in the Army of the Potomac, Hardtack. 
What was hardtack ? It was a plain flour-and-water 
biscuit. Two which I have in my possession as me- 
mentos measure three and one-eighth by two and 
seven-eighths inches, and are nearly half an inch 
thick. Although these biscuits were furnished to 
organizations by weight, they were dealt out to the 




A BREAD OVEN. 



men by number, nine constituting a ration in some 
regiments, and ten in others ; but there were usually 
enough for those who wanted more, as some men 
would not draw them. While hardtack was nutritious, 
yet a hungry man could eat his ten in a short time 
and still be hungry. When they were poor and fit 
objects for the soldiers' wrath, it was due to one of 
three conditions : first, they may have been so hard 



No. 59] '''Hardtack and Coffee'' 229 

that they could not be bitten ; it then required a very 
strong blow of the fist to break them ; the second 
condition was when they were mouldy or wet, as 
sometimes happened, and should not have been given 
to the soldiers : the third condition was when from 
storage they had become infested with maggots. 

When the bread was mouldy or moist, it was thrown 
away and made good at the next drawing, so that the 
men were not the losers ; but in the case of its being 
infested with the weevils, they had to stand it as a 
rule ; but hardtack was not so bad an article of food, 
even when traversed by insects, as may be supposed. 
Eaten in the dark, no one could tell the difference 
between it and hardtack that was untenanted. It 
was no uncommon occurrence for a man to find the 
surface of his pot of coffee swimming with weevils, 
after breaking up hardtack in it, which had come out 
of the fragments only to drown ; but they were easily 
skimmed off, and left no distinctive flavor behind. 

Having gone so far, I know the reader will be 
interested to learn of the styles in which this particu- 
lar article was served up by the soldiers. Of course, 
many of them were eaten just as they were received 
— hardtack plain ; then I have already spoken of 
their being crumbed in coffee, giving the " hardtack 
and coffee." Probably more were eaten in this way 
than in any other, for they thus frequently furnished 
the soldier his breakfast and supper. But there were 
other and more appetizing ways of preparing them. 
Many of the soldiers, partly through a slight taste 
for the business but more from force of circumstances, 
became in their way and opinion experts in the art of 
cooking the greatest variety of dishes with the smallest 
amount of capital. 



230 Camp and March [no. 60 

Some of these crumbed them in soups for want of 
other thickening. For this purpose they served very 
well. Some crumbed them in cold water, then fried 
the crumbs in the juice and fat of meat. A dish akin 
to this one which was said to make the hair curl, and 
certainly was indigestible enough to satisfy the crav- 
ings of the most ambitious dyspeptic, was prepared 
by soaking hardtack in cold water, then frying them 
brown in pork fat, salting to taste. Another name 
for this dish was skillygalee. Some liked them toasted, 
either to crumb in coffee, or if a sutlerwas at hand whom 
they could patronize, to butter. The toasting gener- 
ally took place from the end of a split stick. 

Then they worked into milk-toast made of condensed 
milk at seventy-five cents a can ; but only a recruit 
with a big bounty, or an old vet, the child of wealthy 
parents, or a reenlisted man did much in that way. 
A few who succeeded by hook or by crook in saving 
up a portion of their sugar ration spread it upon hard- 
tack. And so in various ways the ingenuity of the 
men was taxed to make this plainest and commonest 
yet most serviceable of army food to do duty in every 
conceivable combination. 



60. On the March 

By Carlton McCarthy (i86i) 

Orders to move ! Where ? when .^ what for .'' — 
are the eager questions of the men as they begin their 
preparations to march. Generally nobody can answer, 
and the journey is commenced in utter ignorance of 
where it is to end. But shrewd guesses are made. 



No. 60] 0?i the March 231 

and scraps of information will be picked up on the 
way. The main thought must be to get ready to move. 
The orderly sergeant is shouting " Fall in ! " and 
there is no time to lose. The probability is that be- 
fore you get your blanket rolled up, find your frying- 
pan, haversack, axe, etc., and fall in, the roll-call will 
be over, and some extra duty provided. 

No wonder there is bustle in the camp. Rapid de- 
cisions are to be made between the various conveniences 
which have accumulated, for some must be left. One 
fellow picks up the skillet, holds it awhile, mentally 
determining how much it weighs, and what will be the 
weight of it after carrying it five miles, and reluctantly, 
with a half-ashamed, sly look drops it and takes his 
place in the ranks. Another having added to his 
store of blankets too freely, now has to decide which 
of the two or three he will leave. The old water- 
bucket looks large and heavy, but one stout-hearted, 
strong-armed man has taken it affectionately to his care. 

This is the time to say farewell to the bread tray, 
farewell to the little piles of clean straw laid between 
two logs, where it was so easy to sleep ; farewell to 
those piles of wood, cut with so much labor ; farewell 
to the girls in the neighborhood ; farewell to the spring, 
farewell to our tree and our fire, good-by to the fellows 
who are not going, and a general good-by to the very 
hills and valleys. 

Soldiers commonly threw away the most valuable 
articles they possessed. Blankets, overcoats, shoes, 
bread and meat, — all gave way to the necessities of 
the march ; and what one man threw away would fre- 
quently be the very article that another wanted and 
would immediately pick up ; so there was not much 
lost after all. 



232 Camp and March [No. 60 

The first hour or so of the march was generally 
quite orderly, the men preserving their places in ranks 
and marching in solid columns ; but soon some lively 
fellow whistles an air, somebody else starts a song, 
the whole column breaks out with roars of laughter ; 
route step takes the place of order, and the jolly sing- 
ing, laughing, talking, and joking that follows no one 
could describe. 

Troops on the march were generally so cheerful 
and gay that an outsider, looking on them as they 
marched, would hardly imagine how they suffered. In 
summer time, the dust, combined with the heat, caused 
great suffering. The nostrils of the men, filled with 
dust, became dry and feverish, and even the throat 
did not escape. The grit was felt between the teeth, 
and the eyes were rendered almost useless. There 
was dust in eyes, mouth, ears and hair. The shoes 
were full of sand, and the dust penetrated the clothes. 
The heat was at times terrific, but the men became 
greatly accustomed to it, and endured it with wonder- 
ful ease. Their heavy woolen clothes were a great 
annoyance ; tough linen or cotton clothes would have 
been a great relief ; indeed, there are many objections 
to woolen clothing for soldiers, even in winter. 

If the dust and heat were not on hand to annoy, 
their very able substitutes were : mud, cold, rain, snow, 
hail and wind took their places. Rain was the great- 
est discomfort a soldier could have ; it was more un- 
comfortable than the severest cold with clear weather. 
Wet clothes, shoes and blankets ; wet meat and bread ; 
wet feet and wet ground ; wet wood to burn, or 
rather not to burn ; wet arms and ammunition ; wet 
ground to sleep on, mud to wade through, swollen 
creeks to ford, muddy springs, and a thousand other 



No. 60] On the Ma?^ch 233 

discomforts attended the rain. There was no comfort 
on a rainy day or night except in bed, — that is, under 
your blanket and oil-cloth. Cold winds, blowing the 
rain in the faces of the men, increased the discomfort. 
Mud was often so deep as to submerge the horses and 
mules, and at times it was necessary for one man or 
more to extricate another from the mud holes in the 
road. 

Occasionally, when the column extended for a mile or 
more, and the road was one dense moving mass of men, 
a cheer would be heard away ahead — increasing in 
volume as it approached, until there was one univer- 
sal shout. Then some favorite general officer dashing 
by, followed by his staff, would explain the cause. 
At other times, the same cheering and enthusiasm 
would result from the passage down the column of 
some obscure and despised officer, who knew it was 
all a joke, and looked mean and sheepish accordingly. 
But no man could produce more prolonged or hearty 
cheers than the old hare which jumped the fence and 
invited the column to a chase ; and often it was said, 
when the rolling shout arose: " There goes old General 
Lee or a Molly Cotton Tail ! " 

The most refreshing incidents of the march occurred 
when the column entered some clean and cosy village 
where the people loved the troops. Matron and 
maid vied with each other in their efforts to express 
their devotion to the defenders of their cause. Re- 
membering with tearful eyes the absent soldier, brother 
or husband, they yet smiled through their tears, and 
with hearts and voices welcomed the coming of the 
road-stained troops. Their scanty larders poured out 
the last morsel, and their bravest words were spoken 
as the column moved by. 



2 34 Camp and March [no. 6i 

After aH the march had more pleasure than pain. 
Chosen friends walked and talked and smoked to- 
gether ; the hills and valleys made themselves a pan- 
orama for the feasting of the soldier's eyes ; a turnip 
path here and an onion patch there invited him to occa- 
sional refreshment ; and it was sweet to think that camp 
was near at hand, and rest, and the journey almost 
ended. 



6 1. The Chevalier of the Lost 
Cause 

By George Gary Eggleston (i86i) 
See note of In the great dining-hall of the Briars, an old-time 

" Jeb" StQart 
in No. 33 



mansion in the Shenandoah Valley, the residence of 
above."" Mr. John Esten Cooke, there hangs a portrait of a 
broad-shouldered cavalier, and beneath is written, in 
the hand of the cavalier himself, 

" Yours to count on, 

J. E. B. Stuart," 

an autograph sentiment which seems to me a very 
perfect one in its way. There was no point in Stuart's 
character more strongly marked than the one here 
hinted at. He was yours to count on always : your 
friend if possible, your enemy if you would have it so, 
but your friend or your enemy " to count on," in any 
case. A franker, more transparent nature, it is im- 
possible to conceive. What he was he professed to 
be. That which he thought, he said, and his habit of 
thinking as much good as he could of those about 
him served to make his frankness of speech a great 
friend-winner. 



236 Cafnp and March [no. 61 

I saw him for the first time when he was a colonel, 
in command of the little squadron of horsemen known 
as the first regiment of Virginia cavalry. 

My company arrived at the camp about noon, after 
a march of three or four days, having travelled 
twenty miles that morning. Stuart, whom we en- 
countered as we entered the camp, assigned us our 
position, and ordered our tents pitched. Our captain, 
who was even worse disciplined than we were, seeing 
a much more comfortable camping-place than the 
muddy one assigned to us, and being a comfort-loving 
gentleman, proceeded to lay out a model camp at a 
distance of fifty yards from the spot indicated. It 
was not long before the colonel particularly wished 
to consult with that captain, and after the consulta- 
tion the volunteer officer was firmly convinced that all 
West Point graduates were martinets, with no knowl- 
edge whatever of the courtesies due from one gentle- 
man to another. 

We were weary after our long journey, and dis- 
posed to welcome the prospect of rest which our 
arrival in the camp held out. But resting, as we 
soon learned, had small place in our colonel's tactics. 
We had been in camp perhaps an hour, when an 
order came directing that the company be divided 
into three parts, each under command of a lieutenant, 
and that these report immediately for duty. Report- 
ing, we were directed to scout through the country 
around Martin sburg, going as near the town as pos- 
sible, and to give battle to any cavalry force we might 
meet. Here was a pretty lookout, certainly ! Our 
officers knew not one inch of the country, and might 
fall into all sorts of traps and ambuscades ; and what 
if we should meet a cavalry force greatly superior to 



No. 6i] yeb Stuart 237 

our own ? This West Point colonel was rapidly 
forfeiting our good opinion. Our lieutenants were 
brave fellows, however, and they led us boldly if 
ignorantly, almost up to the very gates of the town 
occupied by the enemy. We saw some cavalry but 
met none, their orders not being so peremptorily bel- 
ligerent, perhaps, as ours were ; wherefore they gave 
us no chance to fight them. The next morning our 
unreasonable colonel again ordered us to mount, in 
spite of the fact that there were companies in the 
camp which had done nothing at all the day before. 
This time he led us himself, taking pains to get us as 
nearly as possible surrounded by infantry, and then 
laughingly telling us that our chance for getting out 
of the difficulty, except by cutting our way through, 
was an exceedingly small one. I think we began 
about this time to suspect that we were learning 
something, and that this reckless colonel was trying 
to teach us. But that he was a hare-brained fellow, 
lacking the caution belonging to a commander, we 
were unanimously agreed. He led us out of the place 
at a rapid gait, before the one gap in the enemy's 
lines could be closed, and then jauntily led us into 
one or two other traps, before taking us back to camp. 
But it was not until General Patterson began his 
feint against Winchester that our colonel had full 
opportunity to give us his field lectures. When the 
advance began, and our pickets were driven in, the 
most natural thing to do, in our view of the situation, 
was to fall back upon our infantry supports at Win- 
chester, and I remember hearing various expressions 
of doubt as to the colonel's sanity when, instead of 
falling back, he marched his handful of men right up 
to the advancing lines, and ordered us to dismount. 



238 Camp a?id Ma?'ch [no. 61 

The Federal skirmish Hne was coming toward us at a 
double-quick, and we were set going toward it at a 
like rate of speed, leaving our horses hundreds of 
yards to the rear. We could see that the skirmishers 
alone outnumbered us three or four times, and it 
really seemed that our colonel meant to sacrifice his 
command dehberately. He waited until the infantry 
was within about two hundred yards of us, we being 
in the edge of a little grove, and they on the other 
side of an open field. Then Stuart cried out, " Back- 
wards — march ! steady, men, — keep your faces to 
the enemy!" and we marched in that way through 
the timber, delivering our shot-gun fire slowly as we 
fell back toward our horses. Then mounting, with 
the skirmishers almost upon us, we retreated, not 
hurriedly, but at a slow trot, which the colonel would 
on no account permit us to change into a gallop. 
Taking us out into the main road he halted us in 
column, with our backs to the enemy. 

" Attention ! " he cried. " Now I want to talk to 
you men. You are brave fellows, and patriotic ones 
too, but you are ignorant of this kind of work, and I 
am teaching you. I want you to observe that a good 
man on a good horse can never be caught. Another 
thing : cavalry can trot away from anything, and a 
gallop is a gait unbecoming a soldier, unless he is 
going toward the enemy. Remember that. We 
gallop toward the enemy, and trot away, always. 
Steady now ! don't break ranks ! " 

And as the words left his lips a shell from a battery 
half a mile to the rear hissed over our heads. 

" There," he resumed. " I've been waiting for that 
and watching those fellows. I knew they'd shoot too 
high, and I wanted you to learn how shells sound." 



No. 6i] Jeh Stuart 239 

We spent the next day or two literally within the 
Federal lines. We were shelled, skirmished with, 
charged, and surrounded scores of times, until we 
learned to hold in high regard our colonel's masterly 
skill in getting into and out of perilous positions. He 
seemed to blunder into them in sheer recklessness, 
but in getting out he showed us the quality of his 
genius; and before we reached Manassas we had 
learned, among other things, to entertain a feeling 
closely akin to worship for our brilliant and daring 
leader. We had begun to understand, too, how much 
force he meant to give to his favorite dictum that the 
cavalry is the eye of the army. 

I had been detailed to do some clerical work at his 
headquarters, and, having finished the task assigned 
me, was waiting in the piazza of the house he oc- 
cupied, for somebody to give me further orders, when 
Stuart came out. 

" Is that your horse.''" he asked, going up to the 
animal and examining him minutely. 

I repHed that he was, and upon being questioned 
further informed him that I did not wish to sell my 
steed. Turning to me suddenly, he said : 

" Let's slip off on a scout, then ; I'll ride your 
horse and you can ride mine. I want to try your 
beast's paces ; " and mounting, we galloped away. 
Where or how far he intended to go I did not know. 
He was enamoured of my horse, and rode, I suppose, 
for the pleasure of riding an animal which pleased 
him. We passed outside our picket line, and then, 
keeping in the woods, rode within that of the Union 
army. W^andering about in a purposeless way, we 
got a near view of some of the Federal camps, and 
finally finding ourselves objects of attention on the 



240 Camp and Ma?xh [no. 61 

part of some well-mounted cavalry in blue uniforms, 
we rode rapidly down a road toward our own lines, 
our pursuers riding quite as rapidly immediately be- 
hind us. 

" General," I cried presently, " there is a Federal 
picket post on the road just ahead of us. Had we 
not better oblique into the woods .'' " 

" Oh no. They won't expect us from this direc- 
tion, and we can ride over them before they make up 
their minds who we are." 

Three minutes later we rode at full speed through 
the corporal's guard on picket, and were a hundred 
yards or more away before they could level a gun at 
us. Then half a dozen bullets whistled about our 
ears, but the cavalier paid no attention to them. 

" Did you ever time this horse for a half-mile .'' " 
was all he had to say. 

It was on the day of my ride with him that I heard 
him express his views of the war and his singular 
aspiration for himself. It was almost immediately 
after General McClellan assumed command of the 
army of the Potomac, and while we were rather 
eagerly expecting him to attack our strongly fortified 
position at Centreville. Stuart was talking with some 
members of his staff, with whom he had been wres- 
tling a minute before. He said something about what 
they could do by way of amusement when they 
should go into winter-quarters. 

" That is to say," he continued, " if George B. 
McClellan ever allows us to go into winter-quarters 
at all." 

" Why, general .^ Do you think he will advance 
before spring } " asked one of the officers. * 

"Not against Centreville," replied the general. 



No. 62] Old Heart of Oak 241 

" He has too much sense for that, and I think he 
knows the shortest road to Richmond, too. If I am 
not greatly mistaken, we shall hear of him presently 
on his way up the James River." 

In this prediction, as the reader knows, he was right. 
The conversation then passed to the question of 
results. 

" I regard it as a foregone conclusion," said Stuart, 
" that we shall ultimately whip the Yankees. We are 
bound to believe that, anyhow ; but the war is going 
to be a long and terrible one, first. We've only just 
begun it, and very few of us will see the end. All I 
ask of fate is that I may be killed leading a cavalry 
charge." 

The remark was not a boastful or seemingly insin- 
cere one. It was made quietly, cheerfully, almost 
eagerly, and it impressed me at the time with the 
feeling that the man's idea of happiness was what 
the French call glory, and that in his eyes there was 
no glory like that of dying in one of the tremendous 
onsets which he knew so well how to make. His 
wish was granted, as we know. He received his 
death-wound at the head of his troopers. 



62. Old Heart of Oak^ 

By William T. Meredith (1864) 

„ T- ^ Written by a 

FaRRAGUT, FarragUt, young officer 

Old Heart of Oak, who was on 

Daring Dave Farragut, ^ar^iSat 

Thunderbolt stroke, the battle of 

Mobile Bay, 

Reprinted with the permission of the Century Company. August 5th. 



242 Camp and March [no. 62 

Watches the hoary mist 

Lift from the bay, 
Till his flag, glory-kissed. 

Greets the young day. 

Far, by gray Morgan's walls, 

Looms the black fleet. 
Hark, deck to rampart calls 

With the drums' beat ! 
Buoy your chains overboard, 

While the steam hums ; 
Men ! to the battlement, 

Farragut comes. 

See, as the hurricane 

Hurtles in wrath 
Squadrons of clouds amain 

Back from its path ! 
Back to the parapet. 

To the guns' lips. 
Thunderbolt Farragut 

Hurls the black ships. 

Now through the battle's roar 

Clear the boy sings, 
" By the mark fathoms four," 

While his lead swings. 
Steady the wheelmen five 

" Nor' by East keep her," 
" Steady," but two alive ; 

How the shells sweep her ! 

Lashed to the mast that sways 
Over red decks, 



No. 63] Rscape fro}?i Prtso?i 243 

Over the flame that plays 

Round the torn wrecks, 
Over the dying lips 

Framed for a cheer, 
Farragut leads his ships, 

Guides the line clear. 

On by heights battle-browed, 

While the spars quiver ; 
Onward still flames the cloud 

Where the hulks shiver. 
See, yon fort's star is set, 

Storm and fire past. 
Cheer him, lads — Farragut, 

Lashed to the mast ! 

Oh ! while Atlantic's breast 

Bears a white sail, 
While the Gulf's towering crest , 

Tops a green vale ; 
Men thy bold deeds shall tell. 

Old Heart of Oak, 
Daring Dave Farragut, 

Thunderbolt stroke ! 



63. An Escape from Prison 

The possibility of escape was a subject of thought The prison 
and conversation among us quite early in our impris- ^^bta^outh 
onment. After Henry's departure, I made up my Carolina. 
mind to try the experiment as soon as matters seemed 
ripe for it. The reports of exchange just at hand, 
which coaxed us into hope from week to week, for 



2 44 Camp and March [no. 63 

four months, no longer tantalized us. I was exceed- 
ingly restless and impatient. There was scarcely a 
day of which I did not spend more than one hour in 
thinking of the possibilities and probabilities of the 
attempt ; and many a night did my bedfellow and I 
lie awake after others had gone to sleep, and discuss 
the merits of various plans. I used to pace our 
empty front-room, and think of the sluggish wretch- 
edness of our life here, and the joy of freedom gained 
by our own efforts, — the same round of thought 
over and over again, — until I was half wild with the 
sense of restraint and of suffocation. 

Our plan, as finally agreed upon, was simple. 
Twice during the day we were allowed half an hour 
in the yard for exercise ; being counted when we 
came in, or soon after, to assure the sergeant of the 
guard that we were all present. In this yard was a 
small brick building consisting of two rooms used as 
kitchens, — one by ourselves, the other by the naval 
officers. The latter of these had a window opening 
into a woodshed ; from which, part of the side being 
torn away, there was access to a narrow space be- 
tween another small building and the jail-fence. Our 
intention was to enter this kitchen during our half- 
hour of liberty, as we were frequently in the habit of 
doing ; to talk with those who were on duty for the 
day ; remain there after the cooks had gone in, leav- 
ing lay-figures to be counted in our stead by the 
sergeant; thence through the woodshed, and, by 
removing a board of the high fence already loosened 
for the purpose, into the adjoining premises, from 
which we could easily gain the street. The latter 
part of the movement — all of it, indeed, except the 
entrance into the kitchen, where we were to remain 



No. 63] Escape from Prison 245 

quiet for several hours — was to be executed after 
dark. 

The street once gained, my comrade and I intended 
to take the railroad running northward along the banks 
of the Broad River, follow it during the first night, 
while our escape was still undiscovered, then strike as 
direct a course as possible for. the North-Carolina 
line. Through the latter State, we hoped to make 
our way westward across the mountains, where we 
should find friends as well as enemies, ultimately 
reaching Burnside's lines in East Tennessee. The 
distance to be passed over we estimated at about 
three hundred miles ; the time which it would occupy, 
at from twenty to thirty days. The difificulties in our 
way were very great, the chances for and against us 
we considered certainly no better than equal. 

Our preparations for such a trip were, of necessity, 
few. We manufactured a couple of stout cloth hav- 
ersacks, in which, though hardly as large as the army 
pattern, we were to carry ten days' provision, — each 
of us two dozen hard-boiled eggs, and about six 
quarts of corn parched and ground. Besides a rubber 
blanket to each, we concluded, for the sake of light 
traveling, to carry but a single woolen one. This, with 
one or two other articles of some bulk, we placed in 
a wash-tub and covered with soiled clothes, in order 
to convey them, without exciting suspicion, to the 
kitchen. My baggage, for the journey, besides what 
has already been referred to, consisted of an extra 
pair of cotton socks, a comb, toothbrush, and piece 
of soap, needle and thread, a piece of stout cloth, a 
flask about one-third full of excellent brandy, a piece 
of lard, a paper of salt, pencil and paper, and my 
home-photographs. 



246 Caf}ip and March [no. 63 

Two dummies, or lay-figures, were to be made. 
The first was a mere pile of blankets; but its position 
in the second story of our double-tier bedstead pro- 
tected it from close observation. For the second, 
I borrowed a pair of pants, and for one foot found a 
cast-off shoe. The upper part of the figure was 
covered with a blanket ; and the face, with a silk 
handkerchief : attitude was carefully attended to. I 
flattered myself that the man was enough of a man 
for pretty sharp eyes, and was satisfied when Lieu- 
tenant Bliss came in, and unsuspectingly addressed 
him by the name of the officer whose pants he wore. 

After the last thing was done which could be done 
in the way of preparation, time passed very slowly. 
I was impatiently nervous, and spent the hours in 
pacing the rooms and watching the sluggish clock- 
hands. The excitement of anticipation was hardly 
less than that which I have felt before an expected 
fight. The personal stake at issue was little different. 

My comrade in this venturesome move was Captain 
Chamberlain, of the 7th Connecticut. He was well- 
informed, an ex-editor, plucky, and of excellent phy- 
sique, well calculated to endure hardship, and a good 
swimmer. He was that day on duty in the kitchen. 
At four P.M., we went out as usual for exercise. En- 
tering the kitchen a few minutes before our half-hour 
had expired, I concealed myself in a snug corner, 
before which one or two towels, a huge tin boiler, and 
other convenient articles, were so disposed as to 
render the shelter complete should so unusual an 
event occur as a visit from the guard after that hour. 

It was but a few minutes before the corporal, act- 
ing for the day as sergeant, was seen to enter the 
room to which all but the cooks and myself had re- 



No. 63] Kscape fj'om Prison 247 

turned. Our confidence that all would go well was 
based in great measure upon his stupidity ; and it 
was with greatly increased apprehensions that I 
heard that he was accompanied to-night by Captain 
Senn. 

Rather than pass the ordeal of a visit from him, 
had we anticipated it, we should probably have de- 
ferred our attempt another day, even at the risk of 
losing our chance altogether. He opened the door 
and went in. I waited anxiously to hear what would 
follow. He seemed to stay longer than usual. Was 
there anything wrong .? Suspense lengthened the 
minutes ; but it was of no use to question those who 
could see, while the door remained closed, no more 
than myself. Presently I was told that the door was 
open ; he was coming out ; there seemed to be no 
alarm ; he was stepping briskly toward the yard. 
We breathed more freely. A moment more, and he 
was going back, evidently dissatisfied with something. 
He re-entered the room. " It's all up," said my reporter. 
I thought myself that there was little doubt of it, and 
prepared, the moment any sign of alarm appeared, to 
come from my retreat, which I preferred to leave volun- 
tarily rather than with the assistance of a file of men. 
Too bad to be caught at the very outset, without so 
much as a whiff of the air of freedom to compensate 
us for the results of detection ! But no: Captain Senn 
comes quietly out, walks leisurely through the hall ; 
and his pipe is lit, — best evidence in the world that 
all is tranquil, his mind undisturbed by anything 
startling or unexpected. 

But it was too soon to exult : congratulations were 
cut short by sudden silence on the part of my friends. 
I listened : it was broken by a step on the threshold, 



248 Camp and March [no. 63 

and the voice of the captain close beside me. I 
didn't hold my breath according to the established 
precedent in all such cases ; but I sat for a Httle while 
as still as I did the first time that ever my daguerreo- 
type was taken ; then, cautiously moving my head, I 
caught a view of the visitor as he stood hardly more 
than at arm's-length from me. He was merely on a 
tour of inspection ; asked a few unimportant ques- 
tions of the cooks, and, after a brief call, took his 
leave. It was with more than mere physical relief 
that I stretched myself, and took a new position in 
my somewhat cramped quarters. Immediate danger 
was over: we had nothing more to fear until the 
cooks went in. We listened anxiously, until it seemed 
certain that all danger from another visit and the dis- 
covery of Captain Chamberlain's absence was over ; 
then sat down to wait for a later hour. 

After perhaps an hour of quiet, we set about what 
little was to be done before we were ready to leave 
the building, — the rolling of our blankets, not yet 
taken from the tub in which they had been brought 
out, the filling of our haversacks, etc. To do 
this in perfect silence was no easy task. Any 
noise made was easily audible outside : the window 
looking toward the jail had no sash, and the blinds 
which closed it failed to meet in the center. A sen- 
try stood not far distant. More than once, startled 
by the loud rattling of the paper which we were un- 
wrapping from our provisions, or the clatter of some 
dish inadvertently touched in the darkness, we 
paused, and anxiously peeped through the blinds to 
see if the sentry had noticed it. The possibility of 
any one's being in the kitchen at that hour was prob- 
ably the last thought to enter his mind. Many times 



No. 64j Ks cape from Lines 249 

we carefully felt our way around the room, — stocking- 
foot and tip-toe, — searching for some article laid 
down perhaps but a moment before, lost, without the 
aid of eyesight to recover it, until at length we 
thought ourselves ready to pass into the adjoining 
room, whose window opened upon the woodshed. 

The only communication between these rooms was 
by a small hole broken through the chimney-back, 
scarcely large enough to admit the body, and with 
the passage further embarrassed by the stoves on 
either side, so placed that it was necessary to lie 
down, and move serpent-wise for a considerable dis- 
tance. Captain Chamberlain made the first attempt, 
and discovered that the door of the stove on the 
opposite side had been left open, and wedged in that 
position by the wood, crowded in for the morning's 
fire ; so that the passage was effectually obstructed. 
The hole had to be enlarged by the tearing-away of 
more bricks, which, as fast as removed, he handed to 
me to be laid on one side. Patient labor at length 
made a sufficient opening, and he passed through. I 
handed to him the blankets, haversacks, and shoes, 
and with some difficulty followed. 



64. Escape from the Southern 
Lines 

By William G. Stevenson (1862) 

We reached Chattanooga on June ist, and I found 
it, to my chagrin, a military camp, containing seven 
thousand cavalry, under strict military rule. We 



2^0 Camp a?id March [no. 64 

were now in a trap, as our pass here ended, and we 
were near the Federal lines. How to get out of the 
town was now the problem, and one of the most diffi- 
cult I had yet met in my study of Rebel topography. 
We put up at the Crutchfield House, stabled our 
horses, and sat about in the bar-room, saying nothing 
to attract attention, but getting all the information 




UNION PICKET LINE. 



possible. I was specially careful not to be recog- 
nized. The cavalry company I had commanded on 
the long retreat from Nashville, was in Chattanooga 
at this time. Had any one of them seen me, my 
position would have been doubly critical ; as it was, 
I felt the need of circumspection. It was clear to me 
that we could not leave Chattanooga in military garb, 
as we had entered it, for, without a pass, no cavalry- 



No. 64] Escape from Twines 251 

man could leave the lines. This settled, a walk 
along the street showed me a Jew clothing-store, 
with suits new and old, military and agricultural. 
My resolution was formed, and I went to the stable- 
taking with me a newly fledged cavalry officer, who 
needed and was able to pay for an elegant cavalry 
saddle. Thus I was rid of one chief evidence of the 
military profession. A small portion of the price 
purchased a plain farmer-like saddle and bridle. An 
accommodating dealer in clothes next made me look 
quite like a country farmer of the middle class. My 
companion was equally successful in transforming 
himself, and in the dusk of the evening we were pass- 
ing out to the country as farmers who had been in to 
see the sights. 

We safely reached and passed the outer pickets, 
and then took to the woods, and struck in toward 
the Te'hnessee river, hoping to find a ferry where 
money, backed, if necessary, by the moral suasion of 
pistols, would put us across. I was growing des- 
perate, and determined not to be foiled. We made 
some twelve miles, and then rested in the woods till 
morning, when selecting the safest hiding-place I 
could find, I left my companion with the horses and 
started out on a reconnoissance. 

Trudging along a road in the direction of the 
river, I met a guileless man who gave me some 
information of the name and locality of a ferryman, 
who had formerly acted in that capacity, though now 
no one was allowed to cross. Carefully noting all 
the facts I could draw out of this man, I strolled on 
and soon fell in with another, and gained additional 
light, one item of which was that the old flat lay near, 
and just below, the ferryman's house. Thus enlight- 



252 Camp and March [no. 64 

ened, I walked on and found the house and my 
breakfast. Being a traveler, I secured without sus- 
picion sandwiches enough to supply my companion 
with dinner and supper, which he enjoyed as he took 
care of the horses in the woods. A circuitous route 
brought me to them, and I was pleased to see the 
horses making a good meal from the abundant grass. 
This was an important point, as our lives might yet 
depend upon their speed and endurance. 

I laid before my companion the rather dubious 
prospect, that the orders were strict that no man 
should be ferried across the river ; the ferryman was 
faithful to the South ; he had been conscientious in 
his refusal to many applications ; no sum would 
induce him to risk his neck, etc. Yet my purpose 
was formed : we must cross the river that night, and 
this man must take us over, as there was no other 
hope of escape. Having laid the plan before my 
companion, as evening drew on I again sought the 
cabin of the retired ferryman. My second appear- 
ance was explained by the 'statement that I had got 
off the road, and wandering in the woods, had come 
round to the same place. 

After taking supper with the ferryman, we walked 
out smoking and chatting. By degrees I succeeded 
in taking him down near the ferry, and there sat 
down on the bank to try the effect upon his avari- 
cious heart of the sight of some gold which I had 
purchased at Montgomery. His eye glistened as he 
examined an eagle with unwonted eagerness, while 
we talked of the uncertain value of paper-money, and 
the probable future value of Confederate scrip. 

As the time drew near when my companion, 
according to agreement, was to ride boldly to the 



No. 64] Escape from Lines 253 

river, I stepped down to take a look at his unused 
flat. He, of course, walked with me. While stand- 
ing with my foot upon the end of his boat, I heard 
the tramp of the horses, and said to him, in a quiet 
tone — "Here is an eagle ; you must take me and my 
companion over." He remonstrated, and could not 
risk his life for that ; another ten dollars was 
demanded and paid, the horses were in the flat, and 
in two minutes we were off for — home. 

I arranged, when we touched the bank, to be in the 
rear of the ferryman, and followed him as he stepped 
off the boat to take breath before a return pull. 
" Now, my good fellow," said I, " you have done us 
one good turn for pay, you must do another for 
friendship. We are strangers here, and you must 
take us to the foot of Waldron's Ridge, and then we 
will release you." To this demand he demurred 
most vigorously ; but my determined position between 
him and the boat, gentle words, and an eloquent exhi- 
bition of my six-shooter, the sheen of which the moon- 
light enabled him to perceive, soon ended the parley, 
and onward he moved. We kept him in the road 
sHghtly ahead of us, with our horses on his two 
flanks, and chatted as sociably as the circumstances 
would permit. For six long miles we guarded our 
prisoner-pilot, and, after apologizing for our rudeness 
on the plea of self-preservation, and thanking him 
for his enforced service, we bade him good-night, 
not doubting that he would reach the river in 
time to ferry himself over before daylight, and con- 
sole his frightened wife by the sight of the golden 
bribe. 

We were now, at eleven o'clock at night, under the 
shadow of a dark mountain, and with no knowledge 



2 54 Camp and March [no. 64 

of the course we were to take, other than the general 
purpose of pressing northward. 

By nine o'clock the next morning we reached a 
farm-house, whose inmates, without many trouble- 
some inquiries, agreed to feed our half-starved horses 
and give us some breakfast. 

We made some thirty miles that day, and ascend- 
ing the Cumberland range in the evening, we again 
sought rest among the rocks. This we judged safest, 
since we knew not who might have seen us during 
the day, of an inquiring state of mind, as to our pur- 
pose and destination. 

On the morning of June 4th, by a detour to conceal 
the course from which we came, and a journey of a 
dozen of miles, we reached the home of my friend. 

The day after our arrival, he took to his bed and 
never rose again. The hardships he had endured in 
the journey home, acting upon a system enfeebled by 
his wound, terminated in inflammation of the lungs, 
which within a week ended his life. 

One more step was needed to make me safe; that 
was, to get within the Federal lines, take the oath of 
allegiance, and secure a pass. But how could this be 
accomplished } Should the Federal authorities sus- 
pect me of having been in the Rebel service, would 
they allow me to take the oath and go my way } I 
knew not ; but well I knew the Confederate officers 
were never guilty of such an absurdity. 

An incident which occurred about the 20th of June, 
both endangered my escape and yet put me upon the 
way of its accomplishment. I rode my pet horse 
Selim into the village of McMinnville, a few miles 
from the place of my sojourn, to obtain information 
as to the proximity of the Federal forces, and, if pos- 



No. 64] Escape from Li?ies 255 

sible, devise a plan of getting within their lines with- 
out exciting suspicion. As Selim stood at the hotel, 
to the amazement of every one, General Dumont's 
cavalry galloped into town, and one of the troopers 
taking a fancy to my horse, led him off without my 
knowledge, and certainly without my consent. My 
only consolation was, that my noble Selim was now 
to do service in the loyal ranks. 

The cavalry left the town in a few hours, after 
erecting a flag-staff and giving the Stars and Stripes 
to the breeze. 

I left soon after the Federals did, but in an oppo- 
site direction, with my final plan perfected. When 
hailed by the pickets, a mile from the town, I 
told them I wished to see the ofificer in command. 
They directed me where to find him, and allowed me 
to advance. When I found the officer, I stated that 
some Federal cavalry had taken my horse in McMinn- 
ville a few days ago, and I wished to recover him. 
He told me he could give me no authority to secure 
my horse, unless I would take the oath of allegiance 
to the United States. To this I made no special 
objection. With a seeming hesitation, and yet with 
a joy that was almost too great to be concealed, I 
solemnly subscribed the following oath : 

" I solemnly swear, without any mental reservation 
or evasion, that I will support the Constitution of the 
United States and the laws made in pursuance 
thereof ; and that I will not take up arms against the 
United States, or give aid or comfort, or furnish 
information, directly or indirectly, to any person or 
persons belonging to any of the so-styled Confed- 
erate States who are now or may be in rebellion 
against the United States. So help me God." 



256 Camp and March [no. 65 

The other side of the paper contained a mihtary 
pass, by authority of Lieutenant-colonel J. G. Park- 
hurst, Military Governor of Murfreesboro. 



65. Hiding Provisions from the 

Soldiers 

By Victoria Virginia Clayton (1862) 

Rumors of Northern troops making raids and 
committing all kinds of depredations through the 
Southern states came to us frequently. Being so far 
south we were not disturbed by them until the war 
was almost ended. Our Postmaster, Mr. Petty, sent 
one morning in the ever-to-be-remembered spring, to 
let me know the startUng news had been received 
that General Grierson, with a detachment of Union 
soldiers, was passing through adjacent counties, and 
would probably reach Clayton very soon. I had old 
Joe called in and told him what had come. The old 
man seemed very much troubled. He said little, but 
that night, after all the family had retired and were 
wrapped in unconscious sleep, he came to consult me 
about secreting some provisions before the arrival of 
these hostile troops, fearing they might destroy these 
necessary articles and leave us in a state of want, as 
they had done in many instances. I said, " Well, 
Joe, you can do so if you wish." 

He took his shovel and spade and went into the 
vegetable garden, which was quite large as it fur- 
nished supplies for the entire family, white and 
colored. He began digging in good earnest and soon 



No. 66] Hiding Provisio?ts 257 

had a large opening made to receive the things, but 
could not finish it in one night. Fortunately, the 
garden was situated in an entirely different direction 
from the negro quarters, so that in going out to work 
next morning the hands did not discover the excava- 
tion that had been made in the night. 

The next night he worked away until it was suffi- 
ciently large to hold what we thought necessary, then 
came to let me know that he was ready to make the 
transfer. With my basket of keys we went out to 
select the articles — bacon, sugar, syrup, wine, and 
many other things. After putting these things in 
the excavation, with hard work he covered them over, 
put earth on top until the great hole was entirely hid. 
Next morning after starting all to work he returned 
to the house, went into the garden, laid off the place 
where the things were hid in rows with a plow, and 
set out cabbage plants, so that in a few days they 
were growing as peacefully as though nothing but 
mother earth was resting beneath them. No one 
knew of this except Joe, his wife, Nancy, and myself, 
until peace was restored. 



66. In Camp with Grant 

By Assistant Secretary of War Charles A. Dana 
(1863) 

All of a sudden it is very cold here. Two days 
ago it was hot like summer, but now I sit in my tent 
in my overcoat, writing, and thinking if I only were 
at home instead of being almost two thousand miles 
away. 



A glimpse of 
camp life in 
a letter to a 
child. Writ- 
ten the night 
after Mr. 
Dana re- 
joined Grant 
at Hankin- 
son's Ferry 
on the Big 
Black. 



258 Camp and March [no. ee 

Away yonder, in the edge of the woods, I hear 
the drum-beat that calls the soldiers to their supper. 
It is only a little after five o'clock, but they begin 
the day very early and end it early. Pretty soon 
after dark they are all asleep, lying in their blankets 
under the trees, for in a quick march they leave their 
tents behind. Their guns are already at their sides, 
so that if they are suddenly called at night they can 
start in a moment. It is strange in the morning be- 




SURRENDER OF GENERAL LEE. 



fore daylight to hear the bugle and drums sound the 
reveille, which calls the army to wake up. It will 
begin perhaps at a distance and then run along the 
whole line, bugle after bugle and drum after drum 
taking it up, and then it goes from front to rear, 
farther and farther away, the sweet sounds throbbing 



No. 67J Camp with Grant 259 

and rolling while you lie on the grass with your sad- 
dle for a pillow, half awake, or opening your eyes 
to see that the stars are all bright in the sky, or that 
there is only a faint flush in the east, where the day 
is soon to break. 

Living in camp is queer business. I get my meals 
in General Grant's mess, and pay my share of the 
expenses. The table is a chest with a double cover, 
which unfolds on the right and the left ; the dishes, 
knives and forks, and caster are inside. Sometimes 
we get good things, but generally we don't. The 
cook is an old negro, black and grimy. The cooking 
is not as clean as it might be, but in war you can't be 
particular about such things. 

The plums and peaches here are pretty nearly 
ripe. The strawberries have been ripe these few 
days, but the soldiers eat them up before we get a 
sight of them. The figs are as big as the end of 
your thumb, and the green pears are big enough to 
eat. But you don't know what beautiful flower.gar- 
dens there are here. I never saw such roses ; and 
the other day I found a lily as big as a tiger lily, only 
it was a magnificent red. 



67. A Turkey for a Bedfellow 

By Corporal James Kendall Hosmer (1863) 

So we live and listen and wait. I am reduced now 
to about the last stage. My poor blouse grows rag- 
geder. My boots, as boys say, are hungry in many 
places. I have only one shirt ; and that has shrunk 
about the neck, until buttons and button-holes are 



2 6o Camp and March [no. 67 

irretrievably divorced, and cannot be forced to meet. 
Washing-days, if I were anywhere else, I should have 
to lie abed until the washer-woman brought home the 
shirt. Now I cannot lie abed, for two reasons : first, 
I am washer-woman myself ; second, the bed is only 
bed at night. By daytime, it is parlor-floor, divan, 
dining-table, and library, and therefore taken up. I 
button up in my blouse, therefore ; and can so fix 
myself, and so brass matters through, that you would 
hardly suspect, unless you looked sharp, what a 
whited sepulchre it was that stood before you. I 
have long been without a cup. Somebody stole mine 
long ''■ago; and I, unfortunate for me, am deterred, 
by the relic of a moral scruple which still lingers in 
my breast, from stealing somebody else's in return. 
My plate is the original Camp-Miller tin plate, worn 
down now to the iron. I have leaned and lain and 
stood on it, until it looks as if it were in the habit of 
being used in the exhibitions of some strong man, 
who rolled it up and unrolled it to show the strength 
of his fingers. There is a big crack down the side ; 
and, soup-days, there is a great rivalry between that 
crack and my mouth, — the point of strife being, 
which shall swallow most of the soup ; the crack 
generally getting the best of it. 

Rations pall now-a-days. The thought of soft 
bread is an oasis in the memory. Instead of that, 
our wearied molars know only hardtack, and hard 
salt beef and pork. We pine for simple fruits and 
vegetables. The other day, however, I received a 
gift. An easy-conscienced friend of mine brought 
in a vast amount of provender from a foraging expe- 
dition, and bestowed upon me a superb turkey, — the 
biggest turkey I ever saw ; probably the grandfather 



No. 68J Turkey Bedfellow 261 

of his whole race. His neck and breast were deco- 
rated with a vast number of red and purple tassels 
and trimmings. He was very fat, moreover ; so that 
he looked like an apoplectic sultan. I carried him 
home with toil and sweat ; but what to do with him 
for the night ! If he had been left outside, he would 
certainly have been stolen : so the only way was to 
make a bedfellow of him. Occasionally he woke up 
and "gobbled ; " and I feared all night long the peck 
of his bill and the impact of his spurs. In the morn- 
ing, we immolated him with appropriate ceremonies. 
The chaplain's coal-hod, the best thing in camp to 
make a soup in, was in use ; but I found a kettle, 
and presided over the preparation of an immense and 
savory stew, the memory whereof will ever steam up 
to me from the past with grateful sweetness. 



68. A Disappointing Dinner 

By General George H. Gordon (1863) 

In spite of all the vexations of starting, every com- 
mander of troops will admit that, once mounted and 
on the march, the most harassing cares give place to 
buoyancy if not to exuberance of spirits. As I turned 
my face towards Richmond, I responded to my host's 
farewell and invitation, " Call again, General," with 
at least a seeming cordiality ; and greeted almost ten- 
derly good Doctor Hubbard who came to express his 
regrets at our departure. He was very sad, and I 
gave him all the encouragement I could. Again I 
bore a brief interruption from two young women, who, 
propelled in a tip-cart by a single donkey, parleyed 



262 Cciffip and Md/'c/i [No. 68 

with me about a wagon taken by somebody, from 
somewhere, at some time. 

At one o'clock in the afternoon we encamped for 
the night, two miles beyond Barhamsville. It rained 
fiercely. The men were in the woods ; myself and 
staff in a dirty and empty shanty adjacent. General 
Keyes occupied the best farm-house in the neighbor- 
hood ; but not for comfort, — it was a ruse. " Hush ! " 
he uttered in bated breath ; " still as death ! this 




FORAGING IN LOUISIANA, 



house is not on the road we travel. I am here to 
deceive the enemy." Those who have always lived 
in comfort can have but a faint notion of the pleas- 
ures of an encampment at the end of a day's march, 
even in tempestuous and cheerless weather. Give a 
soldier wood for a roaring blaze, dry straw for a bed 
if he can get it, and if not, then hemlock boughs, 
and if neither, then a dry spot for his blanket ; add 
a plentiful supply of rations, and your true soldier 



No. 68] Disapprji?iti?ig Di?iner 263 

will find cheer where to a Chilian the outlook would 
be dark and forbidding. Before a merry camp-fire 
despondency gives place to levity, dulness to anima- 
tion ; hopes rise, the muscles grow hard, the eye 
brightens, resolution is strengthened, until the worn 
and cheerless soldier who threw off his canteen, car- 
tridge-box, and haversack, and faded into a sorr}' heap, 
becomes erect, strong, and defiant. All this is born 
of food and fire, of a pipe and a merr}'^ group. 

The dripping column that toiled heavily on its 
march from Barhamsville on the 25th of June, and 
halted in front of a dark and gloomy wood for the 
night, were soon transformed into happy dwellers, 
peopHng the silent arches of the forest with song, or 
filhng its dark recesses with a convivial glow. Sol- 
diers, too, are mortal, with appetites pertaining to 
mo'rtahty. In common with races less civilized, they 
have a keen instinct for food, though they do not 
enjoy with the epicure the advantages of Fulton or 
Quincy market ; hence, inroads on chickens, hogs, 
and cattle that are nurtured on sacred soil, and an 
accurate knowledge of the situation of smoke and 
spring house. Rank commands external respect: 
but rank, in common with the lowest station, ac- 
knowledges demands of hunger ; and rank, however 
exalted, will fail to secure the bounties of the sur- 
rounding country, if it does not provide against the 
wandering tribes that swarm over and into every 
hamlet within miles of the march of a column of 
troops. 

It was a pleasing idea, that of dinner, as I watched 
the leaping blaze from my camp-fire, and dried wet 
places in my clothing. It was a consoling thought 
that I had stationed a sentinel at yonder farm-house 



264 Camp a?id Ma?-ch [no. es 

to protect the dinner which the owner had consented 
to prepare. In contemplation of my own meal, how 
I rejoiced as my beloved troops were preparing 
theirs ! To see them crowding around the savory 
messes, to know that they were well fed and happy, 
was delightful indeed. At last I notified my staff 
that we would visit the Elysian fields of dinner. 

" Which is the house, Mr. White .-' Go on, and 
show us the way." 

" This is it, hey .'' I admire your taste ; it is the 
best-looking house around here ; and it was very pru- 
dent in you, too, to post this sentinel at the door. 
These dogs of soldiers are so sharp." 

" This is Doctor Jones, General," said Mr. White, 
as he introduced a gentlemanly person as the master 
of the mansion. 

" Glad to see you, Doctor ; we have come to dine 
with you." 

"Why, General, I sent your dinner to you more 
than an hour ago." 

"Eh! what.?" 

" Didn't you send for it .-* " 

"Send for it!" I echoed, feebly. "I see it all! 
Call up that sentinel. Has any soldier carried off a 
dinner while you have been on post .-' " 

" No, sir! " 

" Did any dinner walk off alone in your presence .'* " 

" Didn't see it, sir." 

" When did you send this — this dinner. Doctor } " 

" We cooked and sent it as quickly as possible after 
your arrival." 

" But this sentinel was posted as soon as we 
arrived, was he not, Mr. White .? " I said to my 
aid. 



No. 68] Disappointifig Din?2er 265 

" I didn't post him until one hour after," repHed 
the conscience-stricken officer. 

"And before he appeared," said the doctor, "a 
soldier came and said he was sent by the General to 
bring his dinner to him." 

" General who .? " 

"General Gordon." 

" May that dinner choke that soldier ! " I mut- 
tered. My aid was lost in meditation. But our din- 
ner — ah, our dinner ! — that was gone forever ! 

" Doctor, have you anything left to eat.'' " 

" I am afraid not. Three chickens were cooked, 
but the soldiers came and carried them away. They 
also killed my sitting hens, and hens with chickens ; 
took off my beehives, and ate all I had in the house. 
So you will have a mighty poor dinner, I'm afraid, 
gentlemen." 

And it was poor, but filling. Though the hungry 
officers were not, the pickled mangoes were, nicely 
stuffed. The doctor favored us at the table with his 
presence, but several young ladies concealed in upper 
chambers, brooding over secession and nursing ha- 
tred to Yankees, did not. In a short after-dinner 
conversation my host declared the Southern belief to 
be that we were waging this war for their total sub- 
jugation, and that such belief rendered it impossible 
for them to do anything but fight. He thought they 
would come back to the Union as it was, if we would 
consent. 



2 66 Camp and March [no- eg 



Thomas J. 
Jackson, 
commonly 
called 

" Stonewall " 
because his 
brigade at 
Bull Run 
stood " like a 
stone wall," 
was one of 
the ablest 
Confederate 
command- 
ers. 



69. Stonewall Jackson as a Man 

By a Virginian (1863) 

We have seen what Jackson accompHshed. Let 
us now endeavor to see what manner of man, out- 
wardly, it was who thus overthrew all his enemies, 
and built himself a name which is the echo of glory 
and victory. How such men look is interesting — 
how they dress and appear among their fellow-men. 
Jackson's costume and deportment were unique, and 
have doubtless contributed in some degree to that 
amazing individuality which he has secured in the 
popular mind. The writer of these lines first saw 
him soon after the battle of Port Republic, and can 
thus present an outline of the great athlete, as he ap- 
peared, all covered with the dust of the arena, whereon 
Banks and his compeers had been overthrown by 
him. Jackson was in his fighting costume at the 
moment ; it was the conqueror of the Valley who 
moved before us ; and, to complete the picture, he 
had, at the moment when we first encountered him, 
his war-look on — was in his veritable element. 

The outward appearance of the famous leader was 
not imposing. The popular idea of a great general 
is an individual of stiff and stately bearing, clad in 
splendid costume, all covered with gold lace and dec- 
orations, who prances by upon a mettled charger, and 
moves on, before admiring crowds, accompanied by 
his glittering staff, and grand in all the magnificence 
of high command. The figure of General Stonewall 
Jackson was singularly different from this popular 
fancy. He wore an old sun-embrowned coat of gray 
cloth, originally a very plain one, and now almost out 



No. 69] Sto?iewall yackso?i 267 

at elbows. To call it sun-embrowned, however, is 
scarcely to convey an adequate idea of the extent of 
its discoloration. It had that dingy hue, the result of 
exposure to rain and snow and scorching sunshine, 
which is so unmistakable. It was plain that the gen- 
eral had often stretched his weary form upon the bare 
ground, and slept in the old coat ; and it seemed to have 
brought away with it no little of the dust of the Valley. 
A holiday soldier would have disdained to wear such 
a garb ; but the men of the old Stonewall Brigade, 
with their brave comrades of the corps, loved that 
coat, and admired it and its owner more than all the 
holiday uniforms and holiday warriors in the world. 

The general rode in a peculiar fashion, leaning for- 
ward somewhat, and apparently unconscious that he 
was in the saddle. His air was singularly abstracted ; 
and, unless aware of his identity, no beholder would 
have dreamed that this plainly clad and absent-look- 
ing soldier was the idolized leader of a great army 
corps, at that very instant hurling themselves, column 
after column, upon the foe. 

The glittering eye beneath the yellow cap would 
have altered somewhat the impression that this man 
was a nobody — that wonderful eye, in whose blaze 
was the evidence of a slumbering volcano beneath ; 
but beyond this, there was absolutely nothing in the 
appearance of General Jackson to indicate his great 
rank or genius as a soldier. 

Such was the outward man of the famous general, 
as he appeared soon after the campaign of the Val- 
ley — and this plainness of exterior had in no small 
degree endeared him to his soldiers. His habits were 
still greater claims on the respect and regard of the 
best men of his command. He was known to be 



268 



Camp a?id March [no. 69 



wholly free from all those vices which are the pe- 
culiar temptation of a military life. He lived as 
plainly as his men, and shared all their hardships, 
never for a moment acting upon the hypothesis that 
his rank entitled him to any luxury or comfort which 
they could not share. His food was plain and simple ; 
his tent, when he had one, which was seldom, no bet- 




AN ARMY POST OFFICE. 

ter than those of the men ; he would wrap himself in 
his blankets and lie down under a tree or in a fence 
corner, with perfect content, and apparently from 
preference ; for to fight hard and live hard seemed to 
be the theory of war. He was a devout Christian, 
and rarely allowed passion to conquer him ; when he 
yielded, it was on exciting occasions, and when great 



No. 70] Stonewall yackson 269 

designs were thwarted by negligence or incapacity 
on the part of those to whom their execution was in- 
trusted. Such occasions seldom occurred, and Jack- 
son's habitual temper of mind was a gentle and child- 
like sweetness ; a simplicity and purity of heart, which 
proved that he had indeed become as a little child — 
walking humbly and devoutly before his God. Prayer 
was Hke breathing with him — the normal condition 
of his being. Every morning he read his Bible and 
prayed, and the writer will not soon forget the pic- 
ture drawn by one of his distinguished associates, 
who rode to his headquarters at daylight, last Novem- 
ber, when the army was falling back to Fredericks- 
burg from the Valley, and found him reading his 
Testament, quietly in his tent, an occupation which 
he only interrupted to describe, in tones of quiet sim- 
plicity, his intended movements to foil the enemy. 
Before sitting down to table he raised both hands, 
and said grace. When he contemplated any move- 
ment, his old servant is said to have always known it 
by his wrestling in prayer for many hours of the 
night ; and on the battle-field thousands noticed the 
singular gestures with the right arm, sometimes both 
arms, raised aloft. Those who looked closely at him 
at such moments saw his lips moving in prayer. Like 
Joshua, he prayed with uplifted hand for victory. 



70. Three War Songs 

MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA 

Bring the good old bugle, boys ! we'll sing another These songs 

Sono- are not very 

o- • •? • • 1 -n 1 111 poetic, but 

Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along — ^ere sung by 



270 Camp and Ma?^ch [no. 70 

hundreds of Sing it as we used to sing it fifty thousand strong, 
thousands of While vvc were marching through Georgia. 

soldiers and o o o 

bersofschooi Ckoviis. — " Hurrah ! Hurrah ! we bring the jubilee ! 
children in Hurrah ! Hurrah ! the flag that makes you 

the North. r i .. 

free ! 
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the 

sea, 
While we were marching through Georgia. 

How the darkeys shouted when they heard the joyful 

sound ! 
How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary 

found ! 
How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground, 
While we were marching through Georgia. — 

ChoTHS. 

Yes, and there were Union men who wept with joyful 

tears. 
When they saw the honor'd flag they had not seen 

for years ; 
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth 

in cheers. 
While we were marching through Georgia. — 

CJioriis. 

"Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never reach 

the coast ! " 
So the saucy rebels said — and 'twas a handsome 

boast, 
Had they not forgot, alas ! to reckon on a host. 

While we were marching through Georgia. — 

CJiorns. 



No. 70] Three War Songs 271 

So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train, 
Sixty miles in latitude — three hundred to the main ; 
Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain, 

While we were marching through Georgia. — 

Chorus. 



THE BATTLE-CRY OF FREEDOM 

Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once 
again, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. 
We will rally from the hill-side, we'll gather from the 
plain, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. 

Chorus. — The Union forever, hurrah! boys, hurrah, 
JDown with the traitor, up with the star. 
While we rally round the flag, boys, rally 
once again. 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. 

We are springing to the call of our brothers gone be- 
fore. 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. 
And we'll fill the vacant ranks with a miUion freemen 
more. 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. — Chorus. 

We will welcome to our numbers the loyal, true, and 
brave. 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom, 
And altho' they may be poor, not a man shall be a 
slave. 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. — Chorus. 



272 Camp a?id March [no. 70 

So we're springing to the call from the East and from 
the West, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. 
And we'll hurl the rebel crew from the land we love 
the best, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. — CJioriis. 

TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP 

In the prison cell I sit. 

Thinking, mother dear, of you, 
And our bright and happy home so far away, 

And the tears they fill my eyes, 
Spite of all that I can do, 

Tho' I try to cheer my comrades and be gay. 

CJiorus. — Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are march- 
ing, 
Oh, cheer up, comrades, they will come, 
And beneath the starry flag we shall breathe 
the air again. 
Of freedom in our own beloved home. 

In the battle front we stood 

When the fiercest charge they made. 
And they swept us off a hundred men or more, 

But before we reached their lines 
They were beaten back dismayed. 
And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er. — CJionis. 

So within the prison cell 

We are waiting for the day 
That shall come to open wide the iron door. 

And the hollow eye grows bright. 
And the poor heart almost gay, 

As we think of seeing friends and home once 
more. — Chorus. 



No. 71] A Rainy Night 273 

71. A Rainy Night 

By Reverend George Hughes Hepworth (1863) 

That night, our advance encamped within six miles 
of the enemy's works. I accepted the kind invitation 
of Colonel Bullock, of the Thirtieth, to share his tent, 
and slept as comfortably on the dry grass and dead 
leaves as though I had had a bed of down. A hard 
ride of six or eight hours naturally inclined me to 
hunger and sleep. I reHshed a pile of crackers and 
cheese more than Vitellius ever did his dainty dish of 
birds' tongues, and was soon afterwards on my back, 
giving good evidence of my condition. 

I slept soundly until about half-past ten ; when a 
faint, booming sound awoke me. It occurred at regu- 
lar intervals of about a minute ; and, as soon as I 
gathered my scattered senses, I knew that the gun- 
boats were hard at work. I lay quietly for some time, 
awed by the solemnity of the occasion ; for it was 
then pitch dark, and the dull, heavy sound was 
freighted with success or defeat ; and, on opening my 
eyes again, I could distinctly trace the course of the 
shell through the air by the light of the fuses. I 
watched them until about two o'clock, when I ordered 
my horse, and set out for headquarters. It was so 
dark that I could not keep the road, and so trusted to 
the instincts of my noble beast. It was a lonely ride, 
— five miles through dense woods, the silence only 
broken by the gruff " Who goes there .-' " of the guard, 
and the ominous clicking of the hammer as he cocked 
his gun. 

I had just reached headquarters when the welcome 
news came that a part of the fleet had succeeded in 



2 74 Camp and March [no. 71 



getting by the fort. Still there was something omi- 
nous in a certain glare of light, which ever and anon 
burst up from the tree-tops in the distance. One of our 
vessels must have caught fire. It could not be a com- 
mon gunboat, for the flames had already lasted several 
hours. At last a courier came, saying that the Missis- 
sippi had caught fire. That noble vessel was part of 
the price we were to pay for the victory hoped for. 



:>-w"r-r^ 











THE ENCAMPMENT AT NIGHT. 

I have never witnessed a scene so magnificent as 
that which closed the career of this war-ship. One 
moment, the flames would die away, and then the 
black darkness of the night seemed heavier than ever ; 
in another minute, the flames would curl up again 
above the tree-tops, and tinge the cloud-edges with 
a lurid light. At length came the catastrophe. I 
thought the fire had gone out; and was just turning 
away, when fold after fold of cloudy flame, driven 
with terrific force, rose higher and higher, until the 



No. 71] A Rainy Night 275 

entire heavens were illuminated, as though the sun 
itself had burst ; and immediately after came a sound 
that shook the earth, — a crash so awful, that it 
seemed as though one could feel it ; which thundered 
along the entire horizon, frightening the birds in their 
coverts and the horses in their stalls ; and then all 
was still and dark. The Mississippi was no more. 
That noble vessel, which had made for herself a his- 
tory, had at last fallen a victim to the chances of war. 
She was a splendid ship ; and every American will 
remember with regret the hour when she was lost. 

That night, fortune did not favor me. I had es- 
corted Colonel Clarke, who had been wounded, be- 
yond our lines, on the Baton-Rouge road ; and, a 
second time, accepted the hospitality of Colonel 
Bullock. I was quietly and with great zest gnawing 
a beef-bone, wondering at the novelty of a soldier's 
life, when I was surprised out of my dream by the 
patter of rain. I was fully prepared for fine weather ; 
but rain I had not reckoned upon. The ground was 
so low and marshy, that, in the course of the first half- 
hour, there were at least three inches of water on it. 
I perched myself on a bread-box, however, and crossed 
my legs, feeling that delightful indifference to all 
fortune, which is the charm and necessity of a sol- 
dier's life. My bone and my hunger were enough to 
occupy all my thoughts. My inner man, astonished 
at the utter neglect of the last eighteen hours, was 
determined that I should concentrate my attention 
upon one thing Only. That luscious beef-bone, which, 
only a few hours before, had been trotting about gayly 
in those very woods, seemed to me the richest luxury 
in the world. 

When I had satisfied my hunger, I began to rec- 



276 Camp and March [no. 71 

ognize the fact, that the tent was pitched in four 
inches of water, and that it was raining most lustily. 
I splattered out, tied my horse under a large tree, 
laughed heartily at the look of perfect surprise he 
put on as I turned to leave him, and then hunted 
until I came across a stretcher which would lift me 
just six inches from the ground, and serve very com- 
fortably for a bed. Fortune did indeed favor me. 
I was two inches above the water, and had a cover- 
ing above my head, which only once in a while played 
the sieve, and showered me. I slept soundly as only 
the tired man can. In the morning, my faithful 
horse waked me with his neighing ; and, if he had had 
the power of speech, I do not doubt he would have 
scolded me well for leaving him all night in a pond. 

I was surprised at the uniform cheerfulness of the 
men under these trying circumstances. They had no 
covering except their rubber-blankets, which they 
stretched out — a very poor roof — upon four upright 
stakes. They were, most of them, drenched to the 
skin. Yet around the camp-fires were heard only 
mirth and wildest hilarity. Once in a while, I came 
across some poor unfortunate, who had dropped his 
blanket in the mud, and down whose back the rain 
was trickhng mercilessly ; and who seemed to have 
arrived at the sage conclusion, that a soldier's life is 
not always gay, as generally represented, and that 
camp-life and camp-meeting are two very different 
things. But even he soon gathered his muddy clothes 
about him ; and, crawling alongside the bright fire, 
got into a better humor with himself and the fortunes 
of war. 



No. 72] March to the Sea 277 

72. An Incident in the March to 
the Sea 

By General William Tecumseh Sherman (1864) 

The afternoon was unusually raw and cold. My 
orderly was at hand with his invariable saddle-bags, 
which contained a change of underclothing, my maps, 
a flask of whiskey and bunch of cigars. Taking a 
drink and lighting a cigar, I walked to a row of 
negro-huts close by, entered one and found a soldier 
or two warming themselves by a wood-fire. I took 
their place by the fire, intending to wait there till our 
wagons had got up, and a camp made for the night. 
I was talking to the old negro woman, when some 
one came and explained to me that, if I would come 
further down the road, I could find a better place. 
So I started on foot, and found on the main road a 
good double-hewed log-house, in one room of which 
Colonel Poe, Dr. Moore and others, had started a 
fire. I sent back orders to the "plum bushes" to 
bring our horses and saddles up to this house, and an 
orderly to conduct our head-quarter wagons to the 
same place. 

In looking around the room, I saw a small box, 
like a candle box, marked Howell Cobb, and, on in- 
quiring of a negro, found that we were at the planta- 
tion of General Howell Cobb, of Georgia, one of the 
leading rebels of the South, then a general in the 
Southern army, and who had been Secretary of 
the United States Treasury in Mr. Buchanan's time. 
Of course, we confiscated his property, and found it 
rich in corn, beans, peanuts, and sorghum-molasses. 




GENEIU.L SHERMAN. 



No. 72] Ma?xh to the Sea 279 

Extensive fields were all around the house. I sent 
back word to General Davis to explain whose planta- 
tion it was, and instructed him to spare nothing. 
That night huge bonfires consumed the fence-rails, 
kept our soldiers warm, and the teamsters and men, 
as well as the slaves, carried off an immense quantity 
of corn and provisions of all sorts. 

In due season the head-quarter wagons came up, 
and we got supper. After supper I sat on a chair 
astride, with my back to a good fire, musing, and be- 
came conscious that an old negro with tallow candle 
in his hand, was scanning my face closely. 
I inquired, " What do you want, old man } " 
He answered, " Dey say you is Massa Sherman." 
I answered that such was the case, and inquired 
what he wanted. He only wanted to look at me, 
and kept muttering, " Dis nigger can't sleep dis 
night." I asked him why he trembled so, and he said 
that he wanted to be sure that we were in fact Yan- 
kees, for on some former occasion some rebel cavalry 
had put on light blue overcoats, personating Yankee 
troops, and many of the negroes were deceived 
thereby, himself among the number — had shown 
them sympathy, and had, in consequence, been un- 
mercifully beaten therefor. This time he wanted to 
be certain before committing himself ; so I told him 
to go out on the porch, from which he could see the 
whole horizon lit up with camp-fires, and he could 
then judge whether he had ever seen anything like it 
before. 

The old man became convinced that the Yankees 
had come at last, about whom he had been dreaming 
all his life ; and some of the staff officers gave him a 
strong drink of whiskey, which set his tongue going. 



2 8 o Camp and March [no. ^^ 

Lieutenant Snelling, who commanded my escort, was 
a Georgian, and recognized in this old negro a favor- 
ite slave of his uncle, who resided about six miles off ; 
but the old slave did not at first recognize his young 
master in our uniform. One of my staff officers 
asked him what had become of his young master 
George. He did not know only that he had gone off 
to the war, and he supposed him killed, as a matter 
of course. His attention was then drawn to Snell- 
ing's face, when he fell on his knees and thanked 
God that he had found his young master alive and 
along with the Yankees. 

Snelling inquired all about his uncle and the family, 
asked permission to go and pay his uncle a visit, 
which I granted, of course, and the next morning he 
described to me his visit. The uncle was not cordial 
by any means, to find his nephew in the ranks of the 
host that was desolating the land, and Snelhng came 
back, having exchanged his tired horse for a fresher 
one out of his uncle's stables, explaining that surely 
some of the bummers would have got the horse, had 
he not. 



This spirited 
poem was 
published a 
few days after 
the battle of 
Cedar Creek, 
when Sheri- 
dan's arrival 
prevented a 
defeat. 



73. Sheridan's Ride 

By Thomas Buchanan Read (1864) 

Up from the South, at break of day, 

Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay. 

The affrighted air with a shudder bore, 

Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, 

The terrible grumble and rumble and roar. 

Telling the battle was on once more, 

And Sheridan twenty miles away. 



No. 73] Sheridan s Ride 281 

And wider still those billows of war 

Thundered along the horizon's bar, 

And louder yet into Winchester rolled 

The roar of that red sea, uncontrolled. 

Making the blood of the Ustener cold 

As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, 

And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

But there is a road to Winchester town, 

A good, broad highway, leading down ; 

And there, through the flush of the morning light 

A steed, as black as the steeds of night, 

Was seen to pass as with eagle flight : 

As if he knew the terrible need. 

He stretched away with his utmost speed. 

Hill rose and fell ; but his heart was gay. 

With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 

Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south. 

The dust, like the smoke from the cannon's mouth. 

Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, 

Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster ; 

The heart of the steed, and the heart of the master 

Were beating, like prisoners assaulting their walls. 

Impatient to be where the battle-field calls. 

Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play. 

With Sheridan only ten miles away. 

Under his spurning feet the road 

Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed ; 

And the landscape sped away behind 

Like an ocean flying before the wind ; 

And the steed, Hke a bark fed with furnace ire, 

Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire. 

But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire; 



282 Camp a?id March [no. 73 

He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, 
With Sheridan only iive miles away. 

The first that the General saw were the groups 

Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops. 

What was done — what to do — a glance told him 

both; 
Then, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, 
He dashed down the. line 'mid a storm of huzzas, 
And the wave of retreat checked its course there 

because 
The sight of the master compelled it to pause. 
With foam and with dust the black charger was gray. 
By the flash of his eye, and his red nostrils' play. 
He seemed to the whole great army to say : 
" I have brought you Sheridan, all the way 
From Winchester down, to save you the day ! " 

Hurrah, hurrah, for Sheridan ! 

Hurrah, hurrah, for horse and man! 

And when their statues are placed on high, 

Under the dome of the Union sky — 

The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, — 

There, with the glorious General's name, 

Be it said, in letters both bold and bright : 

" Here is the steed that saved the day 
By carrying Sheridan into the fight, 

From Winchester, twenty miles away ! " 



PART VI 
UNDER FIRE 

74. A Private in Battle 

By Carlton McCarthy (1861) 

The column, hitherto moving forward with the 
steadiness of a mighty river, hesitates, halts, steps 
back then forward, hesitates again, halts. The 
colonels talk to the brigadier, the brigadiers talk to 
the major-general, some officers hurry forward and 
others hurry to the rear. Infantry stands to one side 
of the road, while cavalry trots by to the front. Now 
some old wagons marked " Ord. Dept." go creaking ordinance 
and rumbling by. One or two light ambulances. Department. 
with a gay and careless air, seem to trip along with 
the ease of a dancing girl. They and the surgeons 
seem cheerful. Some, not many, ask, " What is the 
matter ? " Most of the men there know exactly : they 
are on the edge of battle. 

Presently a very quiet almost sleepy looking man 
on horseback, says, " Forward, 19th ! " and away 
goes the leading regiment. A little way ahead the 
regiment jumps a fence, and — pop! bang ! whis ! 
thud ! is all that can be heard until the rebel yell 
reverberates through the woods. Battle ? No ! skir- 
mishers advancing. 

283 



284 



Under Fire [no. 74 



Step into the woods now, and watch these skir- 
mishers. See how cheerfully they go in. How 
rapidly they load, fire and reload. They stand six 
and twelve feet apart, calling to each other, laughing, 
shouting, cheering, but advancing. There : one fel- 
low has dropped his musket like something red hot. 
His finger is shot away. His friends congratulate 
him, and he walks sadly away to the rear. Another 
staggers and falls, with a ball through his neck, mor- 
tally wounded. Two comrades raise him to his feet 
and try to lead him away, but one of them receives 
a ball in his thigh, which crushes the bone, and he 
falls groaning to the ground. They have at last 
driven the enemy's skirmishers in upon the line of 
battle, and are waiting. A score of men have fallen 
here, some killed outright, some slightly, some sorely, 
some mortally wounded. 

Now a battery has been hurried into position, the 
heavy trails have fallen to the ground, and at the 
command " Commence firing ! " the cannoneers have 
stepped in briskly and loaded. The first gun blazes 
at the muzzle, and away goes a shell. The poor 
fellows in the woods rejoice as it crashes through the 
trees over their heads, and cheer when it explodes 
over the enemy's line. 

But help is coming. At the edge of the woods, 
where the skirmishers entered, the Ijrigade is in line. 
Somebody has ordered, " Load ! " 

The ramrods glisten and rattle down the barrels 
of a thousand muskets. " Forward ! " is the next 
command, and the brigade disappears in the woods, 
the canteens rattling, the bushes crackling, and the 
officers never ceasing to say, " Close up, men ; close 
up ! guide centre ! " 



No. 74] A Private in Battle 285 

The men on that skirmish line have at last found 
it advisable to lie down at full length on the ground, 
though it is so wet, and place their heads against the 
trees in front. They cannot advance and they can- 
not retire without, in either case, exposing themselves 
to almost certain death. They are waiting for the 
hne of battle to come to their relief. 

At last, before they see, they hear the line advanc- 
ing through the pines. The snapping of the twigs, 
the neighing of horses, and hoarse commands, inspire 
a husky cheer, and when the line of the old brigade 
breaks through the trees in full view, they fairly yell ! 
Every man jumps to his feet, the brigade presses 
firmly forward, and soon the roll of musketry tells all 
who are waiting to hear that serious work is progress- 
ing away down in the woods. Brigade after brigade 
and division after division is hurried into line, and 
pressed forward into action. Battalions of artillery 
open fire from the crests of many hills, and the battle 
is begun. 

Ammunition trains climb impassable places, cross 
ditches without bridges and manage somehow to 
place themselves in reach of the troops. Ambu- 
lances, which an hour before went gayly forward, 
now slowly and solemnly returned loaded. Shells 
and musket balls, which must have lost their way, 
go flitting about here and there, wounding and killing 
men who deem themselves far away from danger. 
The negro cooks turn pale as these unexpected visit- 
ors enter the camps at the rear, and the rear is ex- 
tended at once. 

At the front, a battery of the enemy is replying 
and shells are bursting overhead, or ploughing huge 
furrows in the ground. Musket balls are rapping on 



2 86 Under Fi?'e [no. 75 

the rims of the wheels and sinking with a deep thud 
into the bodies of the poor horses. Smoke obscures 
the scene, but the cannoneers in faint outline can be 
seen cheerfully serving the guns. 

As the opposing battery ceases firing, and having 
limbered up, scampers away, and the last of the 
enemy's infantry slowly sinks into the woods out of 
sight and out of reach, a wild cheer breaks from the 
cannoneers, who toss their caps in the air and shout, 
shake hands and shout again, while the curtain of 
smoke is raised by the breeze and borne away. 

The cavalry is gone. With jingle and clatter they 
have passed through the lines and down the hill and 
are already demanding surrender from many a be- 
lated man. There will be no rest for that retreating 
column. Stuart, with a twinkle in his eye, his lips 
puckered as if to whistle a merry lay, is on their 
flanks, in their rear, and in their front. The enemy 
will send their cavalry after him, of course, but he 
will stay with them, nevertheless. 

Add now the streams of wounded men slowly mak- 
ing their way to the rear; the groups of dejected 
prisoners plodding along under guard, and you have 
about as much of a battle as one private soldier ever 
sees. 



75. The Cavalry Charge 

By Edmund Clarence Stedman (1864) 

Our good steeds snuff the evening air. 
Our pulses with their purpose tingle 

The foeman's fires are twinkling there ; 
He leaps to hear our sabres jingle ! 



No. 76] T/ie Cavalry Charge 2 8 

Halt! 
Each carbine sent its whizzing ball : 
Now, cling ! clang ! Forward, all, 
Into the fisrht! 



Dash on beneath the smoking dome : 

Through level lightnings gallop nearer ! 
One look to Heaven ! No thoughts of home 
The guidons that we bear are dearer. 

Charge ! 
Cling! clang! Forward, all! 
Heaven help those whose horses fall — 
Cut left and right ! 

They flee before our fierce attack ! 

They fall ! they spread in broken surges. 
Now, comrades, bear our wounded back, 
And leave the foeman to his dirges. 

Wheel ! 
The bugles sound the swift recall : 
Cling ! clang ! Backward, all ! 
Home, and good-night ! 



76. Battle of Bull Run 

By Edmund Clarence Stedman (i86i) 

By the time I reached the top of the hill, the 
retreat, the panic, the hideous headlong confusion, 
were now beyond a hope. I was near the rear of the 
movement, with the brave Captain Alexander, who 
endeavored by the most gallant but unavailable exer- 
tions to check the onward tumult. It was difficult to 



Under Fire 



[No. 76 



The rout at 
Bull Run, 
July, 1861, 
was due to 
the lack of 
time for drill 
and organiza- 
tion ; on the 
whole it was 
a good thing 
for the North, 
for it com- 
pelled the 
country to 
face the ne- 
cessity of 
large and 
good armies. 



believe in the reality of our sudden reverse. " What 
does it all mean?" I asked Alexander. "It means 
defeat," was his reply. " We are beaten ; it is a 
shameful, a cowardly retreat! Hold up, men!" he 
shouted, " don't be such infernal cowards ! " and he 
rode backwards and forwards, placing his horse 
across the road and vainly trying to rally the run- 
ning troops. The teams and wagons confused and 
dismembered every corps. We were now cut off 
from the advance body by the enemy's infantry, who 
had rushed on the slope just left by us, surrounded 
the guns and sutlers' wagons, and were apparently 
pressing up against us. " It's no use, Alexander," 
I said, "you must leave with the rest." "I'll be 
d — d if I will," was his sullen reply, and the splendid 
fellow rode back to make his way as best he could. 
Meantime I saw officers with leaves and eagles on 
their shoulder-straps, majors and colonels, who had 
deserted their commands, pass me galloping as if for 
dear life. No enemy pursued just then ; but I sup- 
pose all were afraid that his guns would be trained 
down the long, narrow avenue, and mow the retreat- 
ing thousands, and batter to pieces army wagons and 
everything else which crowded it. Only one field 
officer, so far as my observation extended, seemed to 
have remembered his duty. Lieut. -Colonel Speidel, a 
foreigner attached to a Connecticut regiment, strove 
against the current for a league. I positively declare 
that, with the two exceptions mentioned, all efforts 
made to check the panic before Centreville was 
reached, were confined to civilians. I saw a man in 
citizen's dress, who had thrown off his coat, seized a 
musket, and was trying to rally the soldiers who 
came by at the point of the bayonet. In a reply to 



No. 76] Bull Run 289 

a request for his name, he said it was Washburne, e. b. Wash- 
and I learned he was the member by that name from '^"''"^' '^'^^ 

-' minister to 

IlHnois. The Hon. Mr. Kellogg made a similar effort. France. Kei- 
Both these Congressmen bravely stood their ground ^°sg was a 

.,,,, 1 -11 % special friend 

till the last moment, and were serviceable at Centre- of Lincoln, 
ville in assisting the halt there ultimately made. And 
other civilians did what they could. 

But what a scene ! and how terrific the onset of 
that tumultuous retreat. For three miles, hosts of 
federal troops — all detached from their regiments, 
all mingled in one disorderly rout — were fleeing 
along the road, but mostly through the lots on either 
side. Army wagons, sutlers' teams, and private car- 
riages, choked the passage, tumbling against each 
other, amid clouds of dust, and sickening sights and 
sounds. Hacks, containing unlucky spectators of the 
late affray, were smashed like glass, and the occu- 
pants were lost sight of in the debris. Horses, flying 
wildly from the battle-field, many of them in death 
agony, galloped at random forward, joining in the 
stampede. Those on foot who could catch them rode 
them bare-back, as much to save themselves from be- 
ing run over, as to make quicker time. Wounded men, 
lying along the banks — the few neither left on the 
field nor taken to the captured hospitals — appealed 
with raised hands to those who rode horses, begging 
to be lifted behind, but few regarded such petitions. 
Then the artillery, such as was saved, came thunder- 
ing along, smashing and overpowering everything. 
The regular cavalry, I record it to their shame, joined 
in the melee, adding to its terrors, for they rode down 
footmen without mercy. One of the great guns was 
overturned and lay amid the ruins of a caisson, as I 
passed it. I saw an artillery-man running between 
u 



290 Unde?^ Fire [No. 76 

the ponderous fore and after-wheels of his gun-car- 
riage, hanging on with both hands, and vainly striv- 
ing to jump upon the ordnance. The drivers were 
spurring the horses ; he could not cling much longer, 
and a more agonized expression never fixed the fea- 
tures of a drowning man. The carriage bounded 
from the roughness of a steep hill leading to a creek, 
he lost his hold, fell, and in an instant the great wheels 
had crushed the Hfe out of him. Who ever saw such 
a flight.'' Could the retreat at Borodino have ex- 
ceeded it in confusion and tumult .'' I think not. It 
did not slack in the least until Centr.eville was 
reached. There the sight of the reserve — Miles's 
Brigade — formed in order on the hill, seemed some- 
what to reassure the van. But still the teams and 
foot soldiers pushed on, passing their own camps 
and heading swiftly for the distant Potomac, until for 
ten miles the road over which the grand army had so 
lately passed southward, gay with unstained banners, 
and flushed with surety of strength, was covered with 
the fragments of its retreating forces, shattered and 
panic-stricken in a single day. From the branch 
route the trains attached to Hunter's Division had 
caught the contagion of the flight, and poured into 
its already swollen current another turbid freshet of 
confusion and dismay. Who ever saw a more shame- 
ful abandonment of munitions gathered at such vast 
expense .-' The teamsters, many of them, cut the 
traces of their horses, and galloped from the wagons. 
Others threw out their loads to accelerate their flight, 
and grain, picks, and shovels, and provisions of every 
kind lay trampled in the dust for leagues. Thou- 
sands of muskets strewed the route, and when some 
of us succeeded in rallying a body of fugitives, and 



No. 77] Stonewall Jackson s Way 291 

forming them in a line across the road, hardly one 
but had thrown away his arms. If the enemy had 
brought up his artillery and served it upon the re- 
treating train, or had intercepted our progress with 
five hundred of his cavalry, he might have captured 
enough supplies for a week's feast of thanksgiving. 
As it was, enough was left behind to tell the story 
of the panic. The rout of the federal army seemed 
complete. 



77. Stonewall Jackson's Way 

By John Williamson Palmer (1862) 



Come, stack arms, men ! Pile on the rails, 

Stir up the camp-fire bright ; 
No matter if the canteen fails, 

We'll make a roaring night. 
Here Shenandoah brawls along. 
There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong, 
To swell the brigade's rousing song 
Of " Stonewall Jackson's Way." 



For Stone- 
wall Jackson 
see note to 
No. 69, 
above. 



We see him now — the old slouched hat 

Cocked o'er his eye askew. 
The shrewd, dry smile, the speech so pat. 

So calm, so blunt, so true. 
The " Blue-Light Elder " knows 'em well ; 
Says he, "That's Banks — he's fond of shell; 
Lord save his soul ! we'll give him " well, 

That's " Stonewall Jackson's way." 



" Blue- 
Light," i.e., 
strict Presby- 
terian. Jack- 
son was a 
very religious 
man. 
General 
Banks, a 
Union com- 
mander. 



292 U?ider Fire [no. 77 

Silence ! ground arms ! kneel all ! caps off ! 

Old Blue-Light's going to pray. 
Strangle the fool that dares to scoff ! 

Attention ! it's his way. 
Appealing from his native sod, 
In fori)ia pauperis to God — 
" Lay bare thine arm, stretch forth thy rod ! 

Amen ! " That's " Stonewall's way." 

He's in the saddle now. Fall in ! 

Steady ! the whole brigade ! 
Hill's at the ford, cut off — we'll win 

His way out, ball and blade ! 
What matter if our shoes are worn } 
What matter if our feet are torn 1 
" Quick-step ! we're with him before dawn ! " 

That's " Stonewall Jackson's way." 

The sun's bright lances rout the mists 

Of morning, and by George ! 
Here's Longstreet struggling in the lists, 

Hemmed in an ugly gorge. 
Pope and his Yankees, whipped before, 
" Bay'nets and grape ! " hear Stonewall roar; 
" Charge, Stuart ! Pay off Ashby's score ! " 

Is " Stonewall Jackson's way." 

Ah ! maiden, wait and watch and yearn 

For news of Stonewall's band ! 
Ah ! widow, read with eyes that burn 

That ring upon thy hand. 
Ah ! wife, sew on, pray on, hope on ! 
Thy life shall not be all forlorn. 
The foe had better ne'er been born 

That gets in " Stonewall's way." 



No. 78] Bridging a R 



IV er 



293 



78. Bridging the Rappahannock 

By Charles Carleton Coffin (1862) 

At five o'clock on the morning of the nth of 
December two signal-guns were fired on the heights 
of Fredericksburg. Deep and heavy their roar, roll- 
ing along the valley, echoing from hill to hill, and 
rousing the sleepers of both armies. We who listened 
upon the Falmouth hills knew that the crossing was 
not a surprise, but that the Rebels were ready for 
battle. And now as the day dawned there came a 
rattling of musketry along the river. The Rebel 
pickets opened the fire. The gunners at the batteries 
were quick to respond, and sent grape and canister 
across the stream. The Rebel pickets at the lower 
bridges soon retired, and the engineers completed 
their work. But in the town the Mississippians took 
shelter in the buildings, and poured a deadly fire upon 
the bridge-builders. Almost every soldier who at- 
tempted to carry out a plank fell. For a while the 
attempt was relinquished. 

" The bridge must be completed," said General 
Burn side. 

Once more the brave engineers attempted it. The 
fog still hung over the river. Those who stood on 
the northern bank could only see the flashes of the 
rifles on the other shore. The gunners were obHged 
to fire at random, but so energetic was their fire that 
the engineers were able to carry the bridge within 
eighty or ninety feet of the shore, and then so deadly 
in turn was the fire of the Rebels that it was murder 
to send men out with a plank. 

General Burnside stood on the piazza of the Phillips 



This episode 
preceded the 
terrible battle 
of Freder- 
icksburg, 
December, 
13, 1862, in 
which 1200 
Union troops 
were killed 
and 9600 
wounded. 



2 94 U?icler Fire [no. 78 

House, a mile from the pontoons. General Sumner 
and General Hooker were there. Aids and couriers 
came and went with messages and orders. 

" My bridge is completed, and I am ready to cross," 
was Franklin's message at half-past nine. 

" You must wait till the upper bridge is completed," 
was the reply to Franklin. 

Two hours passed. A half-dozen attempts were 
made to complete the upper bridge without success. 
Brave men not belonging to the engineers came down 
to the bank, surveyed the scene, and then volunteer- 
ing their services, seized planks and boards, ran out 
upon the bridge, but only to fall before the sharp- 
shooters concealed in the cellars of the houses not ten 
rods distant. Captain Brainard of the Fiftieth New 
York, with eleven men, volunteered to finish the 
nearly completed work. They went out upon the 
run. Five fell at one volley, and the rest returned. 
Captain Perkins of the same regiment led another 
party. He fell with a ghastly wound in his neck. 
Half of his men were killed or wounded. These were 
sacrifices of life with nothing gained. 

General Burnside had no desire to injure the town, 
but under the usages of war he had a right to bom- 
bard it ; for the Rebels had concealed themselves in 
the houses, making use of them to slaughter his men. 

" Bring all your guns to bear upon the city and 
batter it down," was the order issued to General Hunt, 
chief of artillery. There were in all thirty-five batter- 
ies, with a total of one hundred and seventy-nine guns, 
all bearing upon the town. The artillerymen received 
the orders to prepare for action with a hurrah. They 
had chafed all the morning, and longed for an oppor- 
tunity to avenge the death of their gallant comrades. 



No. 78] Bridging a R 



IV er 



295 



The hour had come. They sprang to their pieces. 
The fire ran from the right to the left, — from the 
heavy twenty-four-pounders on the heights of Fal- 
mouth to the -smaller pieces on the hills where Wash- 
ington passed his boyhood. The air became thick 
with the murky clouds. The earth shook beneath 




A PONTOON BRIDGE. 



the terrific explosions of the shells, which went howl- 
ing over the river, crashing into the houses, battering 
down walls, splintering doors, ripping up floors. 
Sixty soHd shot and shells a minute were thrown, and 
the bombardment was kept up till nine thousand were 
fired. No hot shot were used, but the explosions set 
fire to a block of buildings, which added terrible 
grandeur to the scene. 



296 



Under Fire [no. 78 



The Rebel army stood upon the heights beyond the 
town and watched the operations. Lee's Rebel artil- 
lery was silent, and the Mississippians concealed in 
the houses were alone participants in the contest. 

The fog hfted at last and revealed the town. The 
streets were deserted, but the houses, the church- 
steeples, the stores were riddled with shot ; yet no 
impression had been made on the Mississippians. 

Burnside's artillerymen could not depress their 
guns sufficiently to shell them out. A working party 
went out upon the bridge, but one after another was 
killed or wounded. 

The time had come for a bold movement. It was 
plain that the Mississippians must be driven out be- 
fore the bridge could be completed, and that a party 
must go over in boats, charge up the hill, and rout 
them from their hiding-places. Who would go .-* 
Who attempt the hazardous enterprise .-' There were 
brave men standing on the bank by the Lacey House, 
who had watched the proceedings during the long 
hours. They were accustomed to hard fighting : they 
had fought at Fair Oaks, Savage Station, Glendale, 
Malvern, and Antietam. 

"We will go over and clean out the Rebels," was 
the cry of the Twentieth Massachusetts. 

"You shall have the privilege of doing so," said 
General Burnside. 

There were not boats enough for all, — not enough 
for one regiment even. A portion of the Seventh 
Michigan was selected to go first, while the other 
regiments stood as a supporting force. 

The men run down the winding path to the water's 
edge, jump into the boats, and push out into the 
stream. It is a moment of intense anxiety. No one 



No. 78] Bridging a River 297 

knows how large the force opposing them. The 
Rebel sharpshooters are watching the movement 
from their hiding-places. They have a fair view and 
can pick their men. The men in the boats know it, 
yet they move steadily onward, steering straight 
across the stream, without a thought of turning back, 
though their comrades are falling, — some headlong 
into the river, others dropping into the boats. The 
oarsmen pull with rapid strokes. When one falls 
another takes his place. Two thirds the distance 
over, — the boats ground in shoal water. The sol- 
diers wait for no word of command, but with a com- 
mon impulse, with an ardor which stops not to count 
the cost, they leap into the water, wade to the shore, 
and charge up the bank. Some fall to rise no more, 
but their surviving comrades rush up the slippery 
slope. A loud hurrah rings out from the soldiers 
who watch them from the Falmouth shore. Up, up 
they go, facing death, firing not, intent only to get at 
the foe and win victory with the bayonet ! They 
smash the windows, batter down doors, driving or 
capturing the foe. 

Loud and hearty the cheers of the regiments upon 
the other shore. The men of the Nineteenth and 
Twentieth Massachusetts would give anything to be 
there. All the while the cannon are roaring, hurling 
solid shot and shell into the doomed city. 

When the bridge-builders saw the soldiers charge 
up the hill, they too caught the enthusiasm of the 
moment, and finished their work. The other regi- 
ments of the brigade, before the last planks were laid, 
rushed down the bank, ran out upon the bridge, 
dashed up the bank, joined their comrades, and drove 
the Rebels from the streets nearest the river. 



29 



Under Fire [No. 78 



History furnishes but few records of more daring 
exploits than this action of the Seventh Michigan. 
Their work was thorough and complete. In fifteen 
minutes they cleared the houses in front of them, and 
took more prisoners than their own party numbered ! 

But now the Yankees were there, marching through 
the streets. The houses were battered, torn, and 
rent. Some were in flames, and a battle was raging 
through the town. 

As soon as the bridge was completed, the other 
brigades of General Howard's division moved across 
the river. The Rebel batteries, which till now had 
kept silence, opened furiously with solid shot and 
shell, but the troops moved steadily over, and took 
shelter along the river bank. The Rebels were fall- 
ing back from street to street, and the men from 
Michigan and Massachusetts were pressing on. 

I stood upon the bank of the river and watched the 
scene in the deepening twilight. Far up the streets 
there were bright flashes from the muskets of the 
Rebels, who fired from cellars, chamber windows, and 
from sheltered places. Nearer were dark masses of 
men in blue, who gave quick volleys as they moved 
steadily on, demolishing doors, crushing in windows, 
and searching every hiding-place. Cannon were 
flaming on all the hills, and the whole country was 
aglow with the camp-fires of the two great armies. 
The Stafford hills were alive with men, — regiments, 
brigades, and divisions moving in column from their 
encampments to cross the river. The sky was with- 
out a cloud. The town was lighted by lurid flames. 
The air was full of hissings, — the sharp cutting 
sounds of the leaden rain. The great twenty-pounder 
guns on the heights of Falmouth were roaring the 



No. 79] Cavalry Raid 299 

while. There were shouts, hurrahs, yells, and groans 
from the streets. So the fight went on till the Rebels 
were driven wholly from the town to their intrench- 
ments beyond. 



79. A Cavalry Raid 

By John Esten Cooke (1862) 

The order was given, in ringing voice : " Form 
fours ! draw sabre ! charge ! " and now the Confed- 
erate people pursued at headlong speed, uttering 
shouts and yells sufficiently loud to awaken the 
seven sleepers ! The men were evidently exhilarated 
by the chase, the enemy just keeping near enough 
to make an occasional shot practicable. A consider- 
able number of the Federal cavalrymen were over- 
taken and captured, and these proved to belong to 
the company in which Colonel Fitz Lee had formerly 
been a lieutenant. 

The gay chase continued until we reached the 
Tottapotamoi, a sluggish stream, dragging its muddy 
waters slowly between rush-clad banks, beneath droop- 
ing trees ; and this was crossed by a small rustic bridge. 
The line of the stream was entirely undefended by 
works ; the enemy's right wing was unprotected. The 
picket at the bridge had been quickly driven in, and 
disappeared at a gallop, and on the high ground 
beyond. Colonel Lee, who had taken the front, 
encountered the enemy. The force appeared to be 
about a regiment, and they were drawn up in line 
of battle in the fields to receive our attack. It 
came without delay. Placing himself at the head of 
his horsemen, Colonel Lee swept forward at the 



3 o o Under Fire [no. 79 

pas de charge, and with shouts the two lines came 
together. The shock was heavy, and the enemy 
stood their ground bravely, meeting the attack with 
the sabre. Swords clashed, pistols and carbines 
banged, yells, shouts, cheers resounded ; then the 
Federal line was seen to give back, and take to 
headlong flight. 

Fitz Lee immediately pressed on and burst into the 
camp near Old Church, where large supplies of boots, 
pistols, liquors, and other commodities were found. 
These were speedily appropriated by the men, and 
the tents were set on fire amid loud shouts. The 
spectacle was animating ; but a report having got 
abroad that one of the tents contained powder, the 
vicinity thereof was evacuated in almost less than no 
time. We were now at Old Church. 

" I think the quicker we move now the better," I 
said, with a laugh. 

" Right," was the reply ; "tell the column to move 
on at a trot." 

So at a rapid trot the column moved. 

The gayest portion of the raid now began. From 
this moment it was neck or nothing, do or die. We 
had one chance of escape against ten of capture or 
destruction. 

Everywhere the ride was crowded with incident. 
The scouting and flanking parties constantly picked 
up stragglers, and overhauled unsuspecting wagons 
filled with the most tempting stores. In this manner 
a wagon, stocked with champagne and every variety 
of wines, belonging to a General of the Federal army, 
fell a prey to the thirsty gray-backs. Still they pressed 
on. Every moment an attack was expected in front 
or rear. 



No. 79] Cavalry Raid 301 

The column was now skirting the Pamunkey, and a 
detachment hurried off to seize and burn two or three 
transports lying in the river. Soon a dense cloud rose 
from them, the flames soared up, and the column 
pushed on. Everywhere were seen the traces of flight 
— for the alarm of " hornets in the hive " was given. 
Wagons had turned over, and were abandoned — from 
others the excellent army stores had been hastily 
thrown. This writer got a fine red blanket, and an 
excellent pair of cavalry pantaloons, for which he still 
owes the United States. Other things lay about in 
tempting array, but we were approaching Tunstall's, 
where the column would doubtless make a charge ; 
and to load down a weary horse was injudicious. 
The advance guard was now in sight of the railroad. 
There was no question about the affair before us. 
The column must cut through, whatever force guarded 
the railroad ; to reach the lower Chickahominy the 
guard here must be overpowered. Now was the time 
to use the artillery, and every effort was made to hurry 
it forward. 

Turnstall's was now nearly in sight, and that good 
fellow Captain Frayser, came back and reported one 
or two companies of infantry at the railroad. Their 
commander had politely beckoned to him as he re- 
connoitred, exclaiming in wheedling accents, full of 
Teutonic blandishment, " Koom yay ! " But this 
cordial invitation was disregarded ; Frayser galloped 
back and reported, and the ringing voice of the leader 
ordered " Form platoons! draw sabre ! charge!" At 
the word the sabres flashed, a thundering shout arose, 
and sweeping on in column of platoons, the gray 
people fell upon their blue adversaries, gobbling 
them up, almost without a shot. It was here that 



302 Under Fire [no. 79 

my friend Major Foote got the hideous little wooden 
pipe he used to smoke afterwards. He had been 
smoking a meerschaum when the order to charge 
was given; and in the rush of the horsemen, dropped 
and lost it. He now wished to smoke, and seeing 
that the captain of the Federal infantry had just 
filled his pipe, leaned down from the saddle, and 
politely requested him to surrender it. 

" I want to smoke ! " growled the Federal captain, 

" So do I," retorted Major Foote. 

" This pipe is my property," said the captain. 

" Oh ! what a mistake ! " responded the major po- 
litely, as he gently took the small affair and inserted 
it between his lips. Anything more hideous than the 
carved head upon it I never saw. 

In an hour the column moved again. Meanwhile 
a little incident had happened which still makes me 
laugh. There was a lady living some miles off in the 
enemy's line whom I wished to visit, but I could not 
obtain the General's consent. " It is certain cap- 
ture," he said ; " send her a note by some citizen, say 
Dr. Hunt; he lives near here." This I determined 
to do, and set off at a gallop through the moonlight 
for the house, some half a mile distant, looking out 
for the scouting parties which were probably prowling 
on our flanks. Reaching the lonely house, outside 
the pickets, I dismounted, knocked at the front door, 
then the back, but received no answer. All at once, 
however, a dark figure was seen gliding beneath the 
trees, and this figure cautiously approached. I rec- 
ognised the Doctor, and called to him, whereupon 
he quickly approached, and said, " I thought you were 
a Yankee ! " and greeting me cordially, led the way 
into the house. Here I wrote my note and entrusted 



No. 79] Cavalry Raid 303 

it to him for delivery — taking one from him to his wife, 
within our hnes. In half an hour I rode away, but 
before doing so asked for some water, which was 
brought from the well by a sleepy, sullen, and insolent 
negro. This incident was fruitful of woes to Dr. 
Hunt ! A month or two afterwards I met him looking 
as thin and white as a ghost. 

" What is the matter .-* " I said. 

"The matter is," he replied, with a melancholy 
laugh, " that I have been starving for three weeks in 
Fortress Monroe on your account. Do you remember 
that servant who brought you the water that night of 
the raid } " 

" Perfectly." 

" Well, the very next day he went over to the Yan- 
kee picket and told them that I had entertained Con- 
federate officers, and given you all information which 
enable you to get off safely. In consequence I was 
arrested, carried to Old Point, and am just out ! " 

At the first streak of dawn the Chickahominy was 
in sight, and we were spurring forward to the ford. 

It was impassable ! The heavy rains had so swollen 
the waters that the crossing was utterly impracti- 
cable ! Here we were within a few miles of an en- 
raged enemy with a swollen and impassable stream 
directly in our front — the angry waters roaring 
around the half-submerged trunks of the trees — and 
expecting every instant to hear the crack of carbines 
from the rear-guard indicating the enemy's approach ! 
The situation was not pleasing. I certainly thought 
that the enemy would be upon us in about an hour, 
and death or capture would be the sure alternative. 
This view was general.. 

The scene upon the river's bank was curious, and 



304 



Under Fire [no. 79 



under other circumstances would have been laughable. 
The men lay about in every attitude, half-overcome 
with sleep, but holding their bridles, and ready to 
mount at the first alarm. Others sat their horses asleep, 
with drooping shoulders. Some gnawed crackers; 
others ate figs, or smoked, or yawned. Things looked 
blue, and that colour was figuratively spread over every 
countenance. 

The column was ordered to move on down the 
stream to a spot where an old bridge had formerly 
stood. Reaching this point, a strong rear-guard was 
thrown out, the artillery placed in position, and we 
set to work vigorously to rebuild the bridge, determined 
to bring out the guns or die trying. 

The bridge had been destroyed, but the stone abut- 
ments remained some thirty or forty feet only apart, 
for the river here ran deep and narrow between steep 
banks. Between these stone sentinels, facing each 
other, was an " aching void " which it was necessary to 
fill. A skiff was procured; this was affixed by a rope 
to a tree, in the mid-current just above the abutments, 
and thus a movable pier was secured in the middle 
of the stream. An old barn was then hastily torn to 
pieces and robbed of its timbers ; these were stretched 
down to the boat, and up to the opposite abutment, 
and a footbridge was thus ready. Large numbers of 
the men immediately unsaddled their horses, took 
their equipments over, and then returning, drove or 
rode their horses into the stream, and swam them 
over. In this manner a considerable number crossed; 
but the process was much too slow. There, besides, 
was the artillery, which we had no intention of 
leaving. A regular bridge must be built without a 
moment's delay. 



No. 79J 



Cavalry Raid 



305 



Heavier blows resounded from the old barn ; huge 
timbers approached, borne on brawny soldiers, and 
descending into the boat anchored in the middle of 
the stream, the men lifted them across. They were 
just long enough ; the ends rested on the abutments, 
and immediately thick planks were hurried forward 




A MILITARY BRIDGE. 



and laid crosswise, forming a secure footway for the 
cavalry and artillery horses. 

At last the bridge was finished; the artillery crossed 
amid hurrahs from the men, and then the General 
slowly moved his cavalry across the shaky footway. 
A little beyond was another arm of the river, which 
was, however, fordable, as I ascertained and reported 
to the General ; the water just deep enough to swim 
a small horse ; and through this, as through the 



3o6 Under Fire [no. so 

interminable sloughs of the swamp beyond, the head 
of the column moved. The prisoners, who were 
numerous, had been marched over in advance of 
everything, and these were now mounted on mules, 
of which several hundred had been cut from the cap- 
tured wagons and brought along. They were started 
under an escort across the ford, and into the swamp 
beyond. Here, mounted often two on a mule, they 
had a disagreeable time ; the mules constantly falling 
in the treacherous mud-holes, and rolling their riders 
in the ooze. When a third swamp appeared before 
them, one of the Federal prisoners exclaimed, with 
tremendous indignation, " How many Chicken-homi- 
nies are there, I wonder, in this infernal country ! " 

The gentlemen of the county, we afterwards heard, 
had been electrified by the rumour that " Stuart was 
down at the river tidying to get across," and had 
built a hasty bridge for us lower down. We were 
over, however, and reaching Mr. Cutter's, the Gen- 
eral and his staff lay down on a carpet spread on the 
grass in the June sunshine, and went to sleep. This 
was Sunday. I had not slept since Friday night, 
except by snatches in the saddle, and in going on to 
Richmond afterwards fell asleep every few minutes 
on horseback. 



80. On the Firing Line 

By James Kendall Hosmer (1863) 

This was on We have had a battle. Not quite a week ago we 

the lower began to hear of it. We knew nothing certain, how- 

River!"^^^' ever, until Saturday. (It is now Tuesday.) Toward 

the end of that afternoon, the explicit orders came. 



No. 8o] T/ie Firi?ig Li/ie 307 

The assault was to be made the next morning, and 
our regiment was to have a share in it. We were 
not to go home without the baptism of fire and blood. 

Before dark, we were ordered into line, and stacked 
our arms. Each captain made a little speech. " No 
talking in the ranks ; no flinching. Let every one 
see that his canteen is full, and that he has hard bread 
enough for a day. That is all you will carry beside 
gun and equipments." We left the guns in stack, 
polished, and ready to be caught on the instant ; and 
lay down under the trees. At midnight came the 
cooks with coffee and warm food. Soon after came 
the order to move ; then, slowly and with many halts, 
nearly four hundred strong, we took up our route 
along the wood-paths. Many other regiments were 
also in motion. The forest was full of Rembrandt 
pictures, — a bright blaze under a tree, the faces and 
arms of soldiers all aglow about it ; the wheel of an 
army-wagon, or the brass of a cannon, lit up ; then 
the gloom of the wood, and the night shutting down 
about it. 

At length, it was daybreak. We were now only 
screened from the rebel works by a thin hedge. Here 
the rifle-balls began to cut keen and sharp through 
the air about us ; and the cannonade, as the east now 
began to redden, reached its height, — a continual 
deafening uproar, hurling the air against one in great 
waves, till it felt almost like a wall of rubber, bound- 
ing and rebounding from the body, — the great guns 
of the " Richmond," the siege-Parrotts, the smaller 
field-batteries ; and, through all, the bursting of the 
shells within the rebel lines, and the keen, deadly 
whistle of well-aimed bullets. A few rods down the 
military road, the column paused. The banks of the 



3o8 Under Fire [no. so 

ravine rose on either side of the road in which we 
had halted: but just here the trench made a turn; 
and in front, at the distance of five or six hundred 
yards, we could plainly see the rebel rampart, red in 
the morning-light as with blood, and shrouded in 
white vapor along the edge as the sharpshooters 
behind kept up an incessant discharge. I believe I 
felt no sensation of fear, nor do I think those about 
me did. 

We climb up the path. I go with my rifle between 
Wilson and Hardiker; keeping nearest the former, 
who carries the national flag. In a minute or two, 
the column has ascended, and is deploying in a long 
line, under the colonel's eye, on the open ground. 
The rebel engineers are most skilful fellows. Be- 
tween us and the brown earth-heap which we are to 
try to gain to-day, the space is not wide ; but it is 
cut up in every direction with ravines and gullies. 
These were covered, until the parapet was raised, with 
a heavy growth of timber ; but now it has all been 
cut down, so that in every direction the fallen tops of 
large trees interlace, trunks block up every passage, 
and brambles are growing over the whole. It is out 
of the question to advance here in line of battle ; it 
seems almost out of the question to advance in any 
order : but the word is given, " Forward ! " and on 
we go. Know that this whole space is swept by a 
constant patter of balls : it is really a leaden rain. 
We go crawling and stooping : but now and then 
before us rises in plain view the hne of earth-works, 
smoky and sulphurous with volleys ; while all about 
us fall the balls, now sending a lot of Httle splinters 
from a stump, now knocking the dead wood out of the 
old tree-trunk that is sheltering me, now driving up a 



No. 8o] T/ie Firing Line 309 

cloud of dust from a little knoll, or cutting off the 
head of a weed just under the hand as with an invisi- 
ble knife. " Forward ! " is the order. We all stoop ; 
but the colonel does not stoop : he is as cool as he 
was in his tent last night, when I saw him drink iced 
lemonade. He turns now to examine the ground, 
then faces back again to direct the advance of this or 
that flank. Wilson springs on from cover to cover, 
and I follow close after him. It is hard work to get 
the flag along ; it cannot be carried in the air ; and 
we drag it and pass it from hand to hand among 
the brambles, much to the detriment of its folds. 
The line pauses a moment. Captain Morton, who 
has risen from a sick-bed to be with his command, is 
coolly cautioning his company. The right wing is 
to remain in reserve, while the left pushes still farther 
forward. The major is out in front of us now. He 
stands upon a log which bridges a ravine, — a plain 
mark for the sharpshooters, who overlook the posi- 
tion, not only from the parapet, but from the tall 
trees within the rebel works. Presently we move on 
again, through brambles and under charred trunks, 
tearing our way, and ' pulling after us the colors ; 
creeping on our bellies across exposed ridges, where 
bullets hum and sing like stinging bees ; and, right in 
plain view, the ridge of earth, its brow white with 
incessant volleys. 

Down into our little nook now come tumbling a 
crowd of disorganized, panting men. They are part 
of a New York regiment, who, on the crest just over 
us, have been meeting with very severe loss. They 
say their dead and dying are heaped up there. We 
believe it ; for we can hear them, they are so near : 
indeed, some of those who come tumbhng down are 



3 I o Under Fire [no. so 

wounded ; some have their gun-stocks broken by shot, 
and the barrels bent, while they are unharmed. They 
are frightened and exhausted, and stop to recover 
themselves ; but presently their officers come up, and 
order them forward again. From time to time, after- 
wards, wounded men crawl back from their position 
a few yards in front of where we are. 

We begin to know that the attack has failed. We 
know nothing certainly. There are rumors, thick as 
the rifle-balls, of this general killed, that regiment de- 
stroyed, and successful attempts elsewhere. The sun 
goes down on this day of blood. We have lost sev- 
eral killed, and several more wounded, and have done 
all we were called upon to do. The colonel tells us 
we have been cool, prudent, and brave. We have 
not been as much exposed as some other regiments, 
and our loss has not been large. The fire, however, 
seemed very hot, and close at hand ; and the wonder 
to us all is, that no more fell. Darkness settles down ; 
shots are received and returned, but only at random 
now, and, ever and anon, from the batteries goes tear- 
ing through the air a monstrous shell, with a roar 
like a rushing railroad-train, then an explosion put- 
ting every thing for the moment in light. 

At dusk, I creep back to the ravine, where I am 
to sleep. For food to-day, I have had two or three 
hard crackers and cold potatoes. We have no blank- 
ets : so down I lie to sleep as I can on the earth, 
without covering ; and, before morning, am chilled 
through with the dew and coldness of the air. 



of Chancel- 
lors ville, 
1862. 



No. 81] Keen an s Charge 311 

81. Keenan's Charge 

By George Parsons Lathrop (1863) 

By the shrouded gleam of the western skies, At the battle 

Brave Keenan looked in Pleasonton's eyes 
For an instant — clear, and cool, and still ; 
Then, with a smile, he said : " I will." 

" Cavalry, charge ! " Not a man of them shrank. 

Their sharp, full cheer, from rank on rank, 

Rose joyously, with a willing breath — 

Rose like a greeting hail to death. 

Then forward they sprang, and spurred and clashed 

Shouted the officers, crimson-sashed ; 

Rode well the men, each brave as his fellow, 

In their faded coats of the blue and yellow ; 

And above in the air, with an instinct true, 

Like a bird of war their pennon flew. 

With clank of scabbards and thunder of steeds. 
And blades that shine like sunlit reeds, 
And strong brown faces bravely pale 
For fear their proud attempt shall fail. 
Three hundred Pennsylvanians close 
On twice ten thousand gallant foes. 

Line after line the troopers came 

To the edge of the wood that was ringed with flame 

Rode in and sabred and shot — and fell ; 

Nor came one back his wounds to tell. 

And full in the midst rose Keenan, tall 

In the gloom, like a martyr awaiting his fall, 

While the circle-stroke of his sabre, swung 

'Round his head, like a halo there, luminous hung. 



312 Under Fire [no. 82 

Line after line ; ay, whole platoons, 
Struck dead in their saddles, of brave dragoons 
By the maddened horses were onward borne 
And into the vortex flung, trampled and torn ; 
As Keenan fought with his men, side by side. 

So they rode, till there were no more to ride. 

But over them, lying there, shattered and mute, 
What deep echo rolls ? — 'Tis a death-salute 
From the cannon in place ; for, heroes, you braved 
Your fate not in vain : the army was saved ! 

Over them now — year following year — 

Over their graves the pine-cones fall, 

And the whip-poor-will chants his spectre-call ; 

But they stir not again: they raise no cheer: 

They have ceased. But their glory shall never cease. 

Nor their light be quenched in the light of peace. 

The rush of their charge is resounding still 

That saved the army at Chancellorsville. 



82. The Federals are Coming! 

By a Southern Lady (1863) 

At breakfast, on the morning of the 17th, we heard 
discussed the question, whether there was a masked 
battery on the opposite shore or not } After some 
words on the subject, pro and con, we ranged the 
shore with the glass, seeing what the gentlemen be- 
lieved to be a battery. They had been talking some 
moments, when I took the glass and saw a number 
of Federal soldiers walking on the levee toward the 



No. 82] The Federals are Coming / 3 i 3 

spot where the battery was supposed to be. Several 
others seemed to be engaged on this very place re- 
moving the branches. I called one of the gentlemen 
to look. I had given up the glass but a few moments, 
when a volume of smoke burst from the embank- 
ment, and two shells were sent, one after the other, 
exploding at the depot just below us. It was indeed 




DESTROYING A RAILROAD. 



a battery, with two guns, which commenced playing 
on the city vigorously. 

We were to leave that morning, and hearing that the 
cars would not venture up to the depot, went to a 
point below, where we found many anxious persons 
awaiting their arrival. We entered the cars, and 
were sitting quite securely and comfortably, when it 
was whispered around, much to the consternation of 
passengers, that they were ordered to approach the 
depot as near as possible, and take on freight ; and 
thus we were carried up, under shelter of a high 



314 Under Fire [No. 82 

bluff, with many misgivings on my part, as shell 
after shell exploded on the hill above us. A nervous 
gentleman leaned forward and told me that we were 
in great danger, and, speaking in the same manner 
to many of the ladies, suggested that, if we made the 
request, the conductor would doubtless back into a 
safe place. 

Although so frightened, his mode of relief was so 
evidently selfish that the gentlemen began joking 
him most unmercifully. In looking out of the win- 
dow, although I felt a sympathy for the poor fellow, 
I could not but be amused at the ludicrous scene that 
presented itself : the porters bringing the baggage 
and small freight from the depot acted as if wild — 
now halting to await the course of a shell — then 
dashing forward, determined to reach the cars before 
another came. Two negroes were coming with a 
small trunk between them, and a carpet bag or two, 
evidently trying to show others of the profession how 
careless of danger they were, and how foolish " nig- 
gars " were to run "dat sort o' way." A shell came 
ricochetting through the air and fell a few yards 
beyond the braves, when, lo ! the trunk was sent 
tumbling, and landed bottom upward ; the carpet bag 
followed — one grand somerset ; and amid the cloud 
of dust that arose, I discovered one porter doubled 
up by the side of the trunk, and the other crouching 
close by a pile of plank. A shout from the negroes 
on the cars, and much laughter, brought them on 
their feet, brushing their knees and giggling, yet 
looking quite fooHsh, feeling their former prestige 
gone. Yet gentlemen and servants avoided the 
depot as much as possible ; and whenever a portion 
of earth was seen to arise in a small volume, accom- 



No. 82] The Federals are Coming / 3 i 5 

panied by smoke, men of both colors immediately ran 
(without casting a look behind) swiftly in the oppo- 
site direction, " gentlemen of color " generally, in 
their haste, stumbling and turning one or two somer- 
sets before reaching a place of safety. And so the 
shell continued coming, exploding on all sides, yet 
not happening to reach us. Soon the glad sound of 
the whistle was heard, and, after our long suspense, 
we felt the motion of the cars again, and were glad 
to leave Vicksburg, with the sound of the cannon and 
noise of the shell still ringing in our ears. 

Some young lady friends of mine were laughing and 
telling me of their experience during the danger of 
the previous night ; of the fright and trouble they 
were in at the time the gunboats passed. Major 
Watts, of the Confederate army, had given a very 
large party, which they attended ; one dressed in a 
corn-colored silk trimmed with black lace ; another 
in blue silk trimmed with white point, and still 
another in white lace. In the confusion and alarm, 
as the first shell fell, one of the young girls, who was 
dancing with a brigadier-general, clasped her hands 
and exclaimed, " Where shall we go .-* " In jest he 
said, "To the country for safety." Beheving him 
serious, in the confusion that ensued, she told her 
young friends. They set out alone with all speed, 
frightened and trembhng. Fortunately a gentleman 
friend, discovering their absence, overtook, and pro- 
ceeded with them. As a shell would be heard com- 
ing, he would cry, " Fall ! " and down they would 
drop in the dust, party dresses and all, lying until the 
explosion took place ; then up, with wild eyes and 
fiercely beating hearts, flying with all speed onward. 
After running about a mile in the fewest moments 



3 1 6 U?tder Fire [Nq. 82 

possible, and falling several times, they stopped at 
the first house, and remained until their friends sent 
out for them in carriages. 

" If you could have seen our party dresses when 
we reached home, and our hair, and the flowers, full 
of dust, you would never have forgotten us," cried 
one. "Ah!" said another, "We laugh gayly this 
morning, for we are leaving the guns behind us; but 
last night it was a serious business, and we absolutely 
ran for our lives." 

Soon the rumor came that from Canton a large 
Federal force was advancing on Jackson. Jackson 
was to be defended, which I doubted. Soon General 
Pemberton left and went to Vicksburg — Mrs. Pem- 
berton to Mobile. Batteries were being erected in 
different parts of the town — one directly opposite 
the house I was in. I stood considering one morning 
where it was best to go, and what it was best to do, 
when a quick gallop sounded on the drive, and a 
friend rode hastily up and said, " Are you going to 
leave .'' " "Yes," I answered, "but I have not yet de- 
cided where to go." "Well, I assure you there is 
no time for deliberation ; I shall take my family to 
Vicksburg, as the safest place, and, if you will place 
yourself under my charge, I will see you safely to 
your husband." So the matter was agreed upon, 
and we were to leave that evening. Still, I was in 
doubt; the Federal army was spreading all over the 
country, and I feared to remain where I was. Yet I 
thought, may I not be in danger in Vicksburg } Sup- 
pose the gunboats should make an attack } Still, it 
was true, as my friend had said, we were in far more 
danger here from the rabble that usually followed a 
large army, who might plunder, insult, and rob us. 



No. 82] The Federals are Coming! 317 

Very hurriedly we made our arrangements, packing 
with scarcely a moment to lose, not stopping to 
discuss our sudden move and the alarming news. 
Our friends, also, were in as great a panic and dis- 
may as ourselves. Mrs. Arden had some chests, of 
heavy silver. Many of the pieces were such that it 
would have taken some time to bury them. Her 
husband was absent, and she feared to trust the 
negro men with the secret. Another friend feared 
to bury her diamonds, thinking in that case she might 
never see them more ; feared, also, to retain them, 
lest, through negroes' tales, the cupidity of the 
soldiers might become excited, and she be a sufferer 
in consequence. Every tumult in the town caused 
us to fly to the doors and windows, fearing a surprise 
at any time; and not only ladies, with pale faces and 
anxious eyes, met us at every turn, but gentlemen of 
anti-military dispositions were running hither and 
thither, with carpet bags and little valises, seeking 
conveyances, determined to find a safe place, if one 
could be found, where the sound of a gun or the 
smell of powder might never disturb them any more ; 
and, as they ran, each had an alarming report to 
circulate ; so that with the rush and roar of dray, 
wagon, and carriage, the distracting reports of the 
rapid advance of the Federal army, and the stifling 
clouds of dust that arose — with all, we were in a 
fair way to believe ourselves any being or object but 
ourselves. 

The depot was crowded with crushing and elbow- 
ing human beings, swaying to and fro — baggage 
being thrown hither and thither — horses wild with 
fright, and negroes with confusion ; and so we found 
ourselves in a car, amid the living stream that flowed 



3i8 



Under Fin 



[No. 83 



and surged along — seeking the Mobile cars — seek- 
ing the Vicksburg cars — ^ seeking anything to bear 
them away from the threatened and fast depopulat- 
ing town. 



This is one 
of the most 
graphic ac- 
counts of the 
siege of 
Vicksburg, 
which was 
taken, 

1863, by Gen- 
eral Grant. 



83. Cave Life in a Besieged City 

By a Southern Lady (1863) 

So constantly dropped the shells around the city, 
that the inhabitants all made preparations to live under 
the ground during the siege. Martin sent over and 
had a cave made in a hill near by. We seized the 
opportunity one evening, when the gunners were 
probably at their supper, for we had a few moments 
of quiet, to go over and take possession. We were 
under the care of a friend of Martin's, who was pay- 
master on the staff of the same General with whom 
Martin was Adjutant. We had neighbors on both 
sides of us ; and it would have been an amusing sight 
to a spectator to witness the domestic scenes presented 
without by the number of servants preparing the 
meals under the high bank containing the caves. 

Our dining, breakfasting, and supper hours were 
quite irregular. When the shells were falling fast, 
the servants came in for safety, and our meals waited 
for completion some little time ; again they would fall 
slowly, with the lapse of many minutes between, and 
out would start the cooks to their work. 

Some families had light bread made in large quan- 
tities, and subsisted on it with milk (provided their 
cows were not killed from one milking time to another), 
without any more cooking, until called on to replenish. 
Though most of us lived on corn bread and bacon. 



No. 83] Cave Life 319 

served three times a day, the only luxury of the meal 
consisting in its warmth, I had some flour, and fre- 
quently had some hard, tough biscuit made from it, 
there being no soda or yeast to be procured. At this 
time we could, also, procure beef. And so I went 
regularly to work, keeping house under ground. Our 
new habitation was an excavation made in the earth, 
and branching six feet from the entrance, forming a 
cave in the shape of a T. In one of the wings my 
bed fitted ; the other I used as a kind of a dressing 
room ; in this the earth had been cut down a foot or 
two below the floor of the main cave ; I could stand 
erect here ; and when tired of sitting in other portions 
of my residence, I bowed myself into it, and stood 
impassively resting at full height — one of the varia- 
tions in the still shell-expectant life. Martin's ser- 
vant cooked for us under protection of the hill. 
Our quarters were close, indeed ; yet I was more 
comfortable than I expected I could have been made 
under the earth in that fashion. 

We were safe at least from fragments of shell — 
and they were flying in all directions ; though no one 
seemed to think our cave any protection, should a 
mortar shell happen to fall directly on top of the 
ground above us. 

And so the weary days went on — the long, weary 
days — when we could not tell in what terrible form 
death might come to us before the sun went down. 
Another fear that troubled Martin was, that our pro- 
visions might not last us during the siege. He would 
frequently urge me to husband all that I had, for 
troublesome times were probably in store for us ; told 
me of the soldiers in the intrenchments, who would 
have gladly eaten the bread that was left from our 



3 2 o Under Fire [no. 83 

meals, for they were suffering every privation, and 
that our servants Hved far better than these men who 
were defending the city. Soon the pea meal became 
an article of food for us also, and a very unpalat- 
able article it proved. To make it of proper consist- 
ency, we were obliged to mix some corn meal with it, 
which cooked so much faster than the pea meal, that 
it burned before the bread was half done. The taste 
was peculiar and disagreeable. 

Still, we had nothing to complain of in comparison 
with the soldiers : many of them were sick and 
wounded in a hospital in the most exposed parts of the 
city, with shells falling and exploding all around them. 

Even the very animals seemed to share the general 
fear of a sudden and frightful death. The dogs 
would be seen in the midst of the noise to gallop up 
the street, and then to return, as if fear had maddened 
them. On hearing the descent of a shell, they would 
dart aside — then, as it exploded, sit down and howl 
in the most pitiful manner. There were many walk- 
ing the street, apparently without homes. 

In the midst of other miserable thoughts, it came 
into my mind one day, that these dogs through hun- 
ger might become as much to be dreaded as wolves. 
Groundless was this anxiety, for in the course of a 
week or two they had almost disappeared. 



No. 84] Gettysburg 321 

84. Gettysburg 

By Edmund Clarence Stedman (1863) 

Wave, wave your glorious battle-flags, brave soldiers a terrible 

of the North, S" '\^"'^ ^' 

And from the fields your arms have won to-day go which the 

proudly forth ! Southern 

For now, O comrades dear and leal — from whom no forced'^trre- 

ills could part, treat across 

Through the long years of hopes and fears, the na- Jh-g^^^J'JJfJ'- 

tion's constant heart — crisis of the 

Men who have driven so oft the foe, so oft have ^^''• 

striven in vain, 
Yet ever in the perilous hour, have crossed his path 

again, — 
At last we have our heart's desire, from them we met 

have wrung 
A victory that round the world shall long be told and 

sung ! 
It was the memory of the past that bore us through 

the fray. 
That gave the grand old army strength to conquer on 

this day ! 

Oh, now forget how dark and red Virginia's rivers 

flow, 
The Rappahannock's tangled wilds, the glory and the 

woe ; 
The fever-hung encampments, where our dying knew 

full sore 
How sweet the north-wind to the cheek it soon shall 

cool no more ; 

Y 



3 2 2 Under Fire [no. 84 

The fields we fought, and gained, and lost ; the low- 
land sun and rain 

That wasted us, that bleached the bones of our un- 
buried slain ! 

There was no lack of foes to meet, of deaths to die no 
lack, 

All the hawks of heaven learned to follow on our track ; 

But henceforth, hovering southward, their flight shall 
mark afar 

The paths of yon retreating host that shun the north- 
ern star. 

At night before the closing fray, when all the front 
was still. 

We lay in bivouac along the cannon-crested hill. 

Ours was the dauntless Second Corps ; and many a 
soldier knew 

How sped the fight, and sternly thought of what was 
yet to do. 

Guarding the centre there, we lay, and talked with 
bated breath 

Of Buford's stand beyond the town, of gallant Rey- 
nold's death, 

Of cruel retreats through pent-up streets by murder- 
ous volleys swept, — 

How well the Stone, the Iron, brigades their bloody 
outposts kept : 

'Twas for the Union, for the Flag, they perished, 
heroes all, 

And we swore to conquer in the end, or even like 
them to fall. 

And passed from mouth to mouth the tale of what 
grim day just done, 



No. 84] Getty sb 117^ g 323 

The fight by Round Top's craggy spur — of all the 

deadliest one ; 
It saved the left : but on the right they pressed us 

back too well, 
And hke a field in spring the ground was ploughed 

with shot and shell. 
There was the ancient graveyard, its hummocks 

crushed and red. 
And there, between them, side by side, the wounded 

and the dead :' 
The mangled corpses fallen above — the peaceful dead 

below, 
Laid in their graves, to slumber here, a score of years 

ago; 
It seemed their waking, wandering shades were asking 

of our slain. 
What brought such hideous tumult now where they so 

still had lain ! 

Bright rose the sun of Gettysburg that morrow morn- 
ing tide, 
And call of trump and roll of drum from height to 

height replied. 
Hark ! from the east already goes up the rattling din ; 
The Twelfth Corps, winning back their ground, right 

well the day begin ! 
They whirl fierce Ewell from their front ! Now we of 

the Second pray, 
As right and left the brunt have borne, the centre 

might to-day. 
But all was still from hill to hill for many a breathless 

hour. 
While for the coming battle-shock Lee gathered in 

his power ; 



324 Under Fire [no. 84 

And back and forth our leaders rode, who knew not 

rest or fear, 
And along the lines, where'er they came, went up the 

ringing cheer. 



'Twas past the hour of nooning ; the summer skies 
were blue; 

Behind the covering timber the foe was hid from view ; 

So fair and sweet with waving wheat the pleasant val- 
ley lay. 

It brought to mind our Northern home, and meadows 
far away ; 

When the whole western ridge at once was fringed 
with fire and smoke. 

Against our lines from seven-score guns the dreadful 
tempest broke ! 

Then loud our batteries answer, and far along the 
crest, 

And to and fro the roaring bolts are driven east and 
west; 

Heavy and dark around us glooms the stifling sulphur- 
cloud. 

And the cries of mangled men and horse go up be- 
neath its shroud. 

The guns are still : the end is nigh : we grasp our 

arms anew ; 
Oh, now let every heart be stanch and every aim be 

true ! 
For look ! from yonder wood that skirts the valley's 

further marge. 
The flower of all the Southern host move to the final 

charge. 



No. 84] Gettysburg 325 

By heaven ! it is a fearful sight to see their double 

rank 
Come with a hundred battle-flags — a mile from flank 

to flank ! 
Tramping the grain to earth, they come, ten thousand 

men abreast ; 
Their standards wave — their hearts are brave — they 

hasten not, nor rest, 
But close the gaps our cannon make, and onward 

press, and nigher. 
And, yelling at our very front, again pour in their 

fire. 



Now burst our sheeted lightnings forth, now all our 

wrath has vent ! 
They die, they wither; through and through their 

wavering Hues are rent. 
But these are gallant, desperate men, of our own race 

and land. 
Who charge anew, and welcome death, and fight us 

hand to hand : 
Vain, vain ! give way, as well ye may — the crimson 

die is cast ! 
Their bravest leaders bite the dust, their strength is 

failing fast ; 
They yield, they turn, they fly the field : we smite 

them as they run ; 
Their arms, their colors, are our spoil ; the furious 

fight is done ! 
Across the plain we follow far and backward push 

the fray : 
Cheer ! cheer ! the grand old Army at last has won 

the day ! 



326 Under Fire [no. 84 

Hurrah! the day has won the cause! No gray-clad 

host henceforth 
Shall come with fire and sword to tread the highways 

of the North ! 
'Twas such a flood as when ye see, along the Atlantic 

shore, 
The great spring-tide roll grandly in with swelling 

surge and roar : 
It seems no wall can stay its leap or balk its wild 

desire 
Beyond the mount that Heaven hath fixed to higher 

mount, and higher ; 
But now, when whitest lifts its crest, most loud its 

billows call. 
Touched by the Power that led them on, they fall, and 

fall, and fall. 
Even thus, unstayed upon his course, to Gettysburg 

the foe 
His legions led, and fought, and fled, and might no 

further sro. 



Full many a dark-eyed Southern girl shall weep her 

lover dead ; 
But with a price the fight was ours — we too have 

tears to shed ! 
The bells that peal our triumph forth anon shall toll 

the brave. 
Above whose heads the cross must stand, the hill-side 

grasses wave ! 
Alas ! alas ! the trampled grass shall thrive another 

year, 
The blossoms on the apple-boughs with each new 

spring appear. 



No. 84] Gettysburg 327 

But when our patriot-soldiers fall, Earth gives them up 

to God ; 
Though their souls rise in clearer skies, their forms 

are as the sod ; 
Only their names and deeds are ours — but, for a 

century yet, 
The dead who fell at Gettysburg, the land shall not 

forget. 



God send us peace ! and where for aye the loved and 

lost recline 
Let fall, O South, your leaves of palm — O North, 

your sprigs of pine ! 
But when, with every ripened year, we keep the har- 
vest-home, 
And to the dear Thanksgiving-feast our sons and 

daughters come — 
When children's children throng the board in the old 

homestead spread, 
And the bent soldier of these wars is seated at the 

head. 
Long, long the lads shall listen to hear the gray-beard 

tell 
Of those who fought at Gettysburg and stood their 

ground so well : 
" 'Twas for the Union and the Flag," the veteran 

shall say, 
" Our grand old Army held the ridge, and won that 

glorious day! " 



328 Under Fire [no. 85 

85. How the Negroes helped the 
Yankees 

By Reverend George Hughes Hepworth (1863) 

Many a man who has boasted that all his slaves 
could be trusted, that he had often given his boy Jim 
hundreds of dollars to carry to the bank, and that not 
a hand on his plantation could be cajoled away, had 
his eyes opened wide on these days of our advance. 
Unwilling that either Confederate or Federal should 
confiscate his most valuable horses, he had very 
stealthily and carefully hidden them in the thick 
underbrush of the woods, a mile or a mile and a half 
away. Jim alone knew where they were. The Con- 
federates came rushing by, and Jim stood with open 
mouth at the spectacle ; and, when asked where his 
master's horses were, he, of course, stared in profound 
ignorance. When the Federal advance came along, 
a cavalry-man rode up on his jaded beast and in- 
quired, — 

" Boys, can you tell me where I can get a fresh 
horse } " 

And Jim was not at all bashful. He at once an- 
swered, — 

" Yes, marster : I'll show you where de old man 
hid his stallion ; " and forthwith trotted by the side of 
the cavalry-man until he exchanged his worn-out hack 
for a fine, sleek stallion worth a thousand dollars. 

These instances were innumerable. I will venture 
to say, that nearly half our cavalry-horses were changed 
in the Teche country; and, in the vast majority of 
cases, it was the favorite servants who pointed out the 
hiding-place, and said, — 



No. 85] The Negroes 329 

"You give us free, and we helps you all we can." 

A curious instance of this kind came under my 
notice. Wheelock and I were riding along with the 
skirmishers towards Opelousas, on two beasts that 
were thoroughly jaded, when a black boy rushed out 
from a cabin in the most excited manner, and would 
hardly let our horses go by, crying out, — 

" Master, if you wants me to, I will tell you where 
there is two splendid horses belonging to de ole 
man." 

" How far off .'' " we asked. 

"'Bout half a mile, master; and hid in de thick 
cane-brake." 

" But why, you young rascal, do you come here, 
and discover to us your master's property .'* You 
ought to have more love for him than to do such a 
thing." 

The idea of love seemed to strike the boy as being 
very peculiar ; and he only answered, — 

" When my master begins to lub me, den it'll be 
time enough for me to lub him. What I wants is to 
get away. I want you to take me off from dis plan- 
tation, where I can be free." 

It was not a particularly pleasant though a some- 
what romantic thing to leave our columns, and go 
half a' mile into the woods. The guerillas abounded ; 
and they had no scruples whatever about drawing a 
bead on a stray Union soldier. 

Still, we needed horses, and made the attempt. 
The beasts were not there. The black boy was con- 
founded, but said he would call Jean. 

Now, Jean was the only boy on the plantation who 
knew where those horses were. He was a favorite 
servant at the "big house ; " and, when the owner dis- 



3 3 o Under Fi?^e [no. 85 

covered that the retreat of the horses was known to 
some of the hands, he told Jean to remove them 
secretly to some secure corner, where neither the 
hands whom he knew he could not trust nor the 
Federals could penetrate. 

Jean was brought. He was forty-five years old, 
had a family, lived as well as a slave can live in the 
Teche country (which is one of the most cruel places 
in the State), and had received a great many favors 
from the "big house " : still he longed to be free. I 
said, — 

" Jean, I hear you have hidden two good horses in 
the cane-brake. Will you show me where they 
are ? " 

He hesitated a moment, as though revolving the 
subject in his mind, grew serious, and then said slowly 
and calmly, — 

" Yes, master, I will show you where dem horses is. 
De ole fokes will kill me near-a-most, if dey ever finds 
it out ; but you'se de people dat sets us free, and we 
poor colored fokes ought to do what little we can for 
you." 

He led the way through fields half a mile, and then 
came to a very dense cane-brake. It was a ticklish 
place to be in ; but we were in such condition, that 
we were willing to run some risk. Jean disappeared, 
and soon brought out a fine gray horse ; and then, 
disappearing a second time, came back bringing 
another. We mounted with all despatch, the black 
boy getting astride of a very lean beast he had man- 
aged to pick up, and hastened on for our advance. 

Jean's is a sample of the kind of love the best 
negroes bear their masters. The more a slave knows, 
and the nearer he comes to being a self-supporting 



No. 86] A Negro Regiment 331 

man, the less willing is he to live in servitude. With 
the first idea that enters a black man's head comes 
the desire for freedom. • 



86. A Negro Regiment Under Fire 

By Reverend George Hughes Hepworth (1863) 

The pluck of the negro as a soldier was fairly tried Port Hudson, 
at the storming of Port Hudson in one of the hottest Y''''^ ^''''^^^ 

" burg, was the 

charges of the war. There were two regiments of last Confed- 
Louisiana negroes in the right wing of the attacking ^^'^'^^ strong- 
force. Nobody trusted them. The West-Point gen- ^iver. Taken 
erals shirked the responsibility of having them in July 8, 1863. 
their brigades. They were nothing but " nigger 
regiments," — the exponents of a pet idea of certain 
crazy people in the North. The Southerners joined 
in the chorus of croakers, and sneered, and intimated 
that things were come to a pretty pass when we put 
guns into the hands of men who were as likely to 
shoot themselves as any one else, and drew them up 
in line against the chivalry of the South ; and so the 
whole current of popular feeling was against them. 
Still they drilled well ; yes, they dressed into line 
magnificently, — a stalwart, heavy-chested set of 
fellows ! They handled their muskets, too, in very 
soldierly fashion ; but it was only by resolutely stem- 
ming the tide, by the most independent persistence, 
that the regiments kept their position. When first 
formed, they were laid on the shelf. They camped 
in the mud in Algiers or Baton Rouge eighteen 
months, rubbing their gun-barrels. At last came 
the siege of Port Hudson. Every man was needed ; 



3 3 2 Under Fire [No. se 

and, more and better, Banks had no prejudice against 
color. In spite of some opposition, they were put 
int» the field by the side of white soldiers. They 
were quiet, remaining within their camp-lines, hold- 
ing their little meetings, hardly ever riotous, seldom 
drunk, never trespassing beyond their lines ; and their 
presence was soon forgotten. 

In good time, the morning came when the first 
assault was made. The distance between the camp 
of the assaulting party and the works of the enemy 
was a half-mile, more or less. The ground was 
ragged and broken, full of gullies, and strewn with 
timber placed there by the rebels to obstruct our 
progress. When our forces got near enough to the 
fortifications, they had to sustain, besides the direct 
fire upon their front, a severe enfilading fire from 
some heavy guns. Altogether, it was an assault 
that required men of the utmost daring and pluck. 

The charge was ordered. The negro regiments 
advanced, and very soon came into the grape of 
the foe. They had never smelt powder before ; but 
(their officers say) there was an eagerness, a wild, 
uncontrollable enthusiasm, about them, which was 
quite wonderful. They charged directly in the 
face of the storm of bullets, square up to the ditch, 
which is on this side the earth-works, and six feet 
deep and twenty feet wide. They were most 
horridly cut up; yet they retired in good order, 
and, when called again into line, answered at once. 
A second time, on the double-quick, they rushed 
up to the ditch, and again fell back. They were 
dressed into line a third time, and advanced. 
" When within a few rods of the enemy's works," 
said one of their officers, "they became perfectly 



No. 87] A Negro Regiment 333 

uncontrollable. We could not keep up with them. 
Their eagerness never was matched. Instead of 
cowardice, they seemed to have no conception of 
fear. The ditch troubled them. The enemy, their 
masters, whom they love so dearly, were beyond ; 
and they chafed beyond measure. Just then, the 
two regiments set up a yell. They were close to the 
foe. It was a sound unlike any thing I ever heard, — 
a wild, unearthly noise. It came across me at the time, 
that it. was the slavery of a thousand years finding 
vent." 

The vexed question is settled for ever. The com- 
manding general, in his official report, speaks in the 
most complimentary way of their behavior. They 
have fairly won a name, and won it by undoubted 
bravery, If, after this, we talk of negro regiments 
sneeringly, we are to be pitied for our littleness, and 
despised for our ignorance. The only difficulty to be 
found with them is one not often complained of. It 
is, that they are apt to go too far. They become 
passionate, fearfully excited, and their officers lose 
control of them. In battle they are not merciful. 
So complete is their hatred of the rebels, that they 
want to exterminate them. 



87. Chickamauga 

By Colonel Robert L. Kimberly (1863) 

It was after midnight when the regiment, having This piece is 
passed Gordon's Mills, went into bivouac in a thicket inserted as 

^ an example 

near the road. The men felt that they were on a of the de- 
battlefield, and were glad enough of the scanty rest tailed de- 



334 



Under Fi, 



ire 



[No. 87 



scription of a 
battle. 
Chicka- 
mauga, 
tought Sep- 
tember 20, 
1863, 

was one of 
the most des- 
perate battles 
of the war, 
and was 
marked by 
the splendid 
generalship 
of General 
George H. 
Thomas. 



that was to be had before daylight should call them 
to action again. Nothing could be seen of the posi- 
tion, but it was certain that the troops were massed 
rather than strung out in line, and the road was 
jammed with artillery and trains. In the morning 
the regiment with the rest was moved further along 
toward Rossville on the Chattanooga road, until it 
was near the Widow Glenn house, where Rose- 
crans' headquarters had been established. Further 
down the road and apparently to the right of it, there 
broke out, about the middle of the forenoon, the 
sound of a severe engagement. This was renewed 
again and again, and the report went about that a 
force sent to dispute the enemy's passage of the 
Chickamauga, needed more than one reinforcement. 
Finally, soon after noon, Palmer's division was 
deployed in echelon and moved straight across the 
Rossville road to the attack. No enemy was in 
sight when the movement began. The formation in 
echelon was with the object of striking and crushing 
the enemy's left flank. The movement started in an 
open wood ; beyond this was a large open field, and 
about half way across it a strip of woodland. The 
Forty-first was in the first echelon, and advanced to 
the woodland. But beyond this the fighting was 
terrific. From the edge of the woods in front there 
came a storm of rifle balls, and back of this were 
batteries in rapid action. Away to the right the bat- 
tle swept, and it was plain that the enemy's flank 
was not found. 

The Forty-first fired its last cartridges and was 
recalled to replenish the boxes. This was done 
hurriedly, back in the open wood, and it was 
hardly finished when the enemy fell furiously on 



No. 87] Chickamauga 335 

Van Cleave's division, which was on the right of 
Palmer's. Colonel Hazen was near the Forty-first 
when this happened. Some idle batteries were at 
hand, and Hazen quickly posted these to check the 
onslaught, for Van Cleave's men were beginning to 
come back. Then the brigade was moved into the 
path of the storm which was bearing back the divi- 
sion of Van Cleave. Colonel Wiley broke his line to 
the rear by companies, to let the retreating crowds 
pass through, and then wheeled back into line. The 
Forty-first was still in the open wood, and in front 
was a large cornfield. Through this the Confeder- 
ates were swarming, but their first line had spent its 
force and lost its formation. Close behind came a 
second line in perfect order. Van Cleave's retreating 
regiments had broken up Hazen's line as they swept 
through, but the Forty-first had kept in form by 
breaking to the rear to let the fugitives pass, as has 
been told. Wiley opened on the Confederate second 
line, with volleys by front and rear ranks, and the 
advance was instantly checked. But it was soon 
apparent that the regiment was out-flanked. Shots 
began to come from the right rear. Then Wiley 
made a change of front to face to the right, and sent 
a volley into the gathering enemy there. Then a 
change back, to face the front and check the main 
advance. Never had the marvellous effect of volley 
firing been more clearly demonstrated ; the fiery Con- 
federates could not stand against it. The closed 
ranks of the Forty-first were in sharp contrast with 
the loose line in front and the wandering foes on the 
right. A hundred yards at a time the regiment fell 
back while loading, and easily held the enemy at bay. 
Then a commanding crest was reached, where a bat- 



336 Under Fi?'e [no. 87 

tery had taken post. Here it was proposed to stand, 
but the enemy did not come on. He was reforming 
his lines, as could be plainly seen from the crest. 
But night drew near, and the battle was over for the 
day. 

Much of the night time was taken up with getting 
into a new position — slow and tiresome marching in 
the darkness. Next morning, before the enemy 
moved, the Forty-first was lying behind a barricade 
of rails and logs, an open field behind it. There 
were troops to right and left, showing that a general 
line of battle was posted. Rations were not abun- 
dant, and of water there was none at all. A detail 
was sent to fill canteens ; the men did not return, but 
fell into the hands of the enemy, who held the water ^ 
supply that was ours the day before. The intense 
suffering occasioned by this lack of water can hardly 
be imagined ; pangs of hunger seemed mild in com- 
parison. Before night, men's tongues were swollen 
and their lips blackened and cracked until the power 
of speech was gone. It was far on into the next 
night when that time of awful thirst was ended. 

The morning was well along when it became appar- 
ent that the enemy was advancing upon the Union 
lines. Nothing was to be seen in the woods to the 
front but soon the well-known Confederate yell was 
heard, and the skirmishers became engaged, falling 
back before the enemy's line of battle. Then the 
line itself was in view, coming on with true Southern 
impetuosity. From behind its barricade of rails, the 
Forty-first opened fire, and to right and left the 
fight was on. The Confederates returned the fire 
with spirit, but their advance was checked, and they 
did little or no damage to the men behind the barri- 



No. 87J Chickamauga 337 

cades. The attacking line rapidly thinned out under 
the steady fire; then it became unsteady, and finally 
it turned and fled. This was the regiment's first 
experience behind a defended line. Slight as was 
that defense of rails, it changed the whole character 
of the fighting. The enemy was severely punished, 
as was plainly to be seen, and had been able to make 
no return in kind. The men began to wonder if an 
attacking force could cover three hundred yards or 
so, before a well directed fire should destroy it. 

But the battle was not over with this one success- 
ful defense. The Confederate line overlapped the 
Union left and had forced it back until it was 
stretched across the open field in the rear, and at a 
right angle with the general line. Then .there was a 
brave fight on both sides in the open ground. It was 
plainly seen from the position held by the Forty-first, 
and it was most eagerly watched. If those men on 
the flank failed to maintain their ground, the whole 
line would be taken in rear while it was assaulted in 
front. There were some moments of intense anxiety, 
and then it was seen that the Confederate assault had 
spent its force. It was as stubborn a fight as one 
could wish to see, but the staying quality of the 
Union troops won. Baird's and Johnson's divisions 
were on the left of Palmer's. 

This doubling up of a flank occurred again that 
day — the second time, the right flank. This came 
from a break in the Union line, made not by the 
enemy, but by order from the commanding general. 
A division (Wood's) was withdrawn from its place in 
line, and at once the enemy entered the gap. The 
army was cut in two, and most of the right was 
driven from the field. The general of the army 



338 Under Fire [no. 87 

went as far as Chattanooga. The Confederates 
pushed their advantage toward the Union left, until 
the division next on the right of Palmer's was bent 
back to the rear. This, like the flank attack on the 
left, was in view, from the position of the Forty-first, 
and was watched as anxiously. Also like the other 
flanking operation, this one failed, thanks to nothing 
but the steadiness of the Union troops. 

But, while these things were taking place in front 
and on both flanks another peril began to grow in the 
consciousness of the men who could not be driven 
from front or flank. The cartridge boxes were being 
rapidly emptied, and no ammunition train was near. 
Everything seemed to have been swept away with 
the right wing. Then from the woods across the 
open field in rear, bullets began to whistle toward the 
backs of the men in the line. These shots were sup- 
posed to come from sharpshooters in the trees. A 
company of the Forty-first was faced about and 
delivered a volley into the treetops across the open. 
This had a good effect, there was one danger the less. 
But the question of ammunition pressed. Nobody 
knew where to find it. The four divisions of the left 
wing were holding their ground, but they were out of 
communication with the rest of the army, wherever 
that might be, and they had no supplies of any kind. 
The division generals came together, and the qiiestion 
of a commander came up. The three corps of the 
army were represented in those four divisions, but 
there was no corps commander present. None of 
the division generals coveted the responsibility of 
command, but it was plain that something must be 
done. There was heavy firing off to the right, and it 
was guessed that somewhere in that direction Thomas 



No. 87] 



Chickamauga 



339 



was holding out against the enemy that had swept 
away the right wing. Finally, Hazen volunteered to 
take his brigade across the interval, and make com- 
munication with whatever Union force might be still 
in the field. The brigade was withdrawn from the 
line, marched somewhat to the rear, and then started 




'OLD ABE. 



off through the unexplored woods toward the sound 
of battle. The movement was made cautiously but 
rapidly, the brigade constantly in readiness for any 
fortune that might befall. There were some scat- 
tered Confederates in the woods, and a Confederate 
skirmish line was struck obliquely, but no other force 
was encountered. The way seemed miles longer 



340 



Under Fire [no. ss 



than it was, and the relief was great when the lead- 
ing regiment came upon the left of the position where 
Thomas had stopped the victorious enemy and held 
him steadfastly. Thomas himself, beloved of all the 
army, rode up to take Hazen by the hand. The 
arrival was just in time. A desperate assault was 
about to come on the left of Thomas's line. Hazen's 
men marched through a cornfield to the crest of a 
low hill, and were there massed in column of regi- 
ments. Scarcely was this done when the Confeder- 
ate storm burst. The slope in front of the brigade 
was open ground, and in a moment this was covered 
with heavy masses of the enemy making for the top. 
Hazen's regiments were lying flat. The foremost 
sprang to its feet, delivered its volley and went down 
again to load, and the next regiment just behind rose 
to fire and fall flat while the third put in its work ; 
and so on. The slope was strewn with Confederate 
dead and wounded, but not a man could reach the 
crest. Along the rest of the line also the defense 
was successful. Night was falling fast, and the battle 
of Chickamauga was over. 



88. O Captain ! My Captain ! 

By Walt Whitman (1865) 

O Captain ! my Captain ! our fearful trip is done, 
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we 

sought is won. 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all 

exulting. 



No. 88J Captain I My Captain ! 341 

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim 
and daring ; 

But O heart ! heart ! heart ! 
O the bleeding drops of red, 

Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 

O Captain ! my Captain ! rise up and hear the bells ; 
Rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the 

bugle trills, 
For you the bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths — for 

you the shores a-crowding. 
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager 
faces turning; 

Here Captain ! dear father ! 
This arm beneath your head ! 

It is some dream that on the deck 
You've fallen cold and dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and 

still, 
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor 

will, 
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage 

closed and done. 
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object 
won ; 

Exult of shores, and ring O bells ! 
But I with mournful tread, 

Walk the deck my Captain lies. 
Fallen cold and dead. 



PART VII 
ON DECK 



Fort Fisher 
protected the 
mouth of the 
Cape Fear 
River, below 
Wilmington, 
North Caro- 
lina, a favor- 
ite entrance 
for blockade 
runners. 
The fleet was 
lying at 
Hampton 
Roads, Vir- 
ginia. 



89. Attack on Fort Fisher 

By Robley D. Evans (1865) 

Admiral Porter assumed command in November, 
and at once began assembling a powerful fleet. 
Every preparation was made for active service. 
Boilers and machinery were overhauled, magazines, 
shell-rooms, and storehouses replenished, and con- 
stant target practice was had with all guns. By the 
end of November the largest fleet ever seen under 
the American flag was assembled in Hampton Roads, 
all classes, from the largest monitor to the smallest 
gunboat, being represented. Our destination was a 
secret, carefully guarded ; but we surmised from what 
was taking place that some important move was con- 
templated, and in this we were not mistaken. It was 
evident from the daily target practice that the Ad- 
miral meant we should hit something when the time 
for action came, and the landing of the men on the 
beach for drill was an indication of possible shore 
service. 

Early in December the troop ships arrived — thir- 
teen thousand men under General B. F. Butler — 
342 



No. 89] Attack on Fort Fisher 343 

and still our destination was a secret. Toward the 
middle of December all our preparations had been 
completed, and we put to sea under sealed orders. 

Before leaving Fortress Monroe, General Butler 
had proposed a powder boat, by the explosion of 
which he hoped seriously to injure the forts on Fed- 
eral Point, including Fort Fisher. Indeed he was 
confident that he would dismount most of the guns 
and level the works. An old steamer, the Gcorgiana, 
had been loaded with several hundred tons of pow- 
der, and turned over to the navy to explode at the 
proper spot. A crew of volunteers had her in charge, 
and on the evening of December 24, took her in for 
the final act of her career. No man in the navy 
believed for a moment that she would do much harm, 
but none of us anticipated how little injury would 
come from the explosion. 

At eleven o'clock that night Admiral Porter 
steamed about the- fleet in his flagship, the side- 
wheeled steamer Malvern, and made signal: " Powder 
boat will blow up at 1.30 a.m. Be prepared to get 
under way, and stand in to engage the fort ! " After 
that there was no sleep for any one ; we stood and 
watched and waited as the hours slowly dragged by. 
Half-past one came and no explosion, and we were 
fearful of some mishap ; *but just as the bells struck 
two o'clock it came. First came a gentle vibration, 
then the masts and spars shook as if they would 
come down about our ears ; and then came the low 
rumble like distant thunder, while the sky to the 
westward was lighted up for a few seconds, and then 
great masses of powder smoke hung over the land 
like thunder clouds. Surely the powder boat had 
blown up, and as the fleet rapidly formed for battle 



344 



0?i Deck 



[No. 89 



there was great curiosity everywhere to see what the 
effect had been. 

At daylight we were heading in for the fort, and 
almost in range, when we saw General Butler's flag- 
ship coming in at full speed, heading straight at Fort 
Fisher, which looked to us very grim and strong and 
totally uninjured. Everything was very quiet until 
the General got fairly within range, when there was 
-a flash from the fort and a prolonged roar, and all 




THE FIRST U, S. IKONCLAD. 



the guns on the face of that work opened on his 
ship. If he had had any notion that he could land 
unopposed he was quickly undeceived, and the way 
that ship turned and got off shore spoke well for the 
energy of her fire-room force ! The last we saw of 
her she was running east as fast as her engines could 
carry her. The powder boat had proved a failure, 
and the General was grievously disappointed. A 
rebel newspaper reported that a Yankee gunboat had 
blown up on the beach and all hands lost. 



No. 89] Attack on Fort Fisher 345 

We had been up many of us all night and our 
only breakfast had been coffee and hard-tack. As 
we approached our position, Commodore Schenck 
sent me aloft with a pair of glasses to locate, if possi- 
ble, some guns that were annoying him. It was a 
raw cold morning, and I had on a short double- 
breasted coat, in the pockets of which I had stowed 
several pieces of hard-tack. When I had taken my 
place in the mizzen rigging, just below the top, I put 
the corner of a hard-tack in my mouth, and was hold- 
ing it between my teeth while I looked through the • 
glasses for the guns. I caught them at once, and 
saw gunners train one of them around until I could 
only see the muzzle of it, which interested me be- 
cause I knew it was pointing directly at us. There 
was a puff of smoke, something like a lamp-post 
crossed the field of the glass, and a moment after the 
rigging was cut four feet below me, and I swung into 
the mast. I at once thought of my hard-tack, but it 
was gone, and I never found even a crumb of it. I 
am sure that I swallowed it whole. When I had 
reported what I had made out of the battery, I was 
directed to lay down from aloft to my station, which 
was in charge of the after division of the guns ; but I 
hesitated to do so, because my knees were shaking, 
and I was afraid the men would see it. However, \ 
had to come down, and as soon as I reached the 
deck, I stood up and looked at my legs, and was 
greatly relieved to find that they did not show the 
nervous tremor which worried me so. I soon forgot 
all abou it as I became interested and warmed up to 
my work. 

We had only eighteen inches of water under us /.^..between 
when we finally anchored and began firing rapidly in ^^ bottorn. 



34^ On Deck [no. 89 

obedience to signal from the Admiral. There was a 
wreck of a blockade-runner between us and the bat- 
tery at which we were to fire, and it was evident that 
this had been used as a target and that the range was 
well known. One or two shots were fired in line 
with it, each one coming closer to us, and then they 
struck us with a ten-inch shot. Four more followed, 
each one striking nearly in the same place, on the 
bends forward of the starboard wheel, and going 
through on to the berth" deck. Then for some reason 
the shot and shell began going over us, striking the 
water thirty or forty feet away. Probably the gun- 
ners on shore could not see the splash of these shots, 
and thought they were striking us. If they had not 
changed their range when they did they would have 
sunk us in an hour. As it was, we hauled out at 
sundown, pretty well hammered, and leaking so that 
we had to shift all our guns to port in order to stop 
the shot holes. 

We had damaged the fort to the extent of dis- 
mounting some of the guns and burning the barracks 
and officers' quarters. When the whole hne was 
fairly engaged the sight was magnificent, and never 
to be forgotten by those who saw it. No fort had 
ever before been subjected to such a fire, and the 
garrison could only make a feeble response ; most of 
them were driven into the bomb-proofs, where they 
remained till we hauled off for the night. The 
heaviest losses on our side had been caused by the 
bursting of the one-hundred pound Parrott rifles; 
thirty-five or forty men had been killed or wounded 
in this way. 



son, a Swede 
by birth, but 
a genuine 
American in 
his way. 



No. 90] Porter and Ericsson 347 

90. The Man Who made the 
Monitor 

By Admiral David Porter (1863) 

While I was fitting out the mortar flotilla, " Erics- John Erics- 
son's iron pot " was approaching completion, and I 
received orders from the Navy Department to make 
a critical examination of the vessel and report my 
opinion of her capabilities. After this duty was ac- 
complished I was ordered to proceed to Mystic, Con- 
necticut, and examine the Galena, a wooden vessel 
sheathed with iron plates, building there under the 
supervision of Commodore Joseph Smith. 

Arriving at New York, I called on Mr. Ericsson 
and showed him my orders. He read them, looked 
at me attentively, and said : "Well, you are no doubt 
a great mathematician, and know all about the calcu- 
lations which enter into the construction of my vessel. 
You will have many papers to examine ; help your- 
self, and take what you like best." 

"I am no great mathematician," I replied, "but I 
am a practical man, and think I can ascertain whether 
or not the Monitor will do what is promised for her." 

" Ah, yes ! " exclaimed Ericsson, " a practical man ! 
Well, I've had a dozen of those fellows here already, 
and they went away as wise as they came. I don't 
want practical men sent here, sir. I want men who 
understand the higher mathematics that are used in 
the construction of my vessel — men who can work 
out the displacements, horse-power, impregnability, 
endurance at sea in a gale, capacity to stow men, the 
motion of the vessel according to the waves, her sta- 



348 On Deck 



[No. 90 



bility as a platform for guns, her speed, actual weight 
— in short, everything pertaining to the subject. 
Now, young man, if you can't fathom these things 
you had better go back where you came from. If 
the department wants to understand the principles of 
my vessel, they should send a mathematician." 

" Well," said I, as the inventor paused to take 
breath, " although I am not strictly what you would 
call a mathematician, I know the rule of three, and 
that twice two are four." 

Ericsson looked hard at me, his hair bristled up, 
and the muscles of his brawny arms seemed to swell 
as if in expectation of having to eject me from the 
room. "Well!" he exclaimed, "I never in all my 
life met with such assurance as this. Here the Gov- 
ernment sends me an officer who knows only the rule 
of three and that twice two are four, and I have used 
the calculus and all the higher mathematics in mak- 
ing my calculations. 

"But," said I, apologetically, "I know a little of 
simple equations. Won't that be sufficient to make 
me understand this machine of yours.? " 

" Worse and worse ! " exclaimed the inventor. " It 
would be better if you knew nothing. Here's a man 
who tells me he knows a little of simple equations, 
and they send him to examine John Ericsson ! " 

I was greatly amused with this remarkable man, 
and entirely forgave his peculiarities. "Well, Mr. 
Ericsson," I said, "you will have to make the best 
of a bad bargain, and get along with me as well as 
you possibly can. I am perfectly willing to receive 
instruction from you." 

" Ah, ha ! " he exclaimed, " that's it, is it .? and so 
you think me a school-master to teach naval officers 



No. go] Porter and Ericsson 349 

what I know ? I'm afraid you're too bad a bargain 
for me ; you must expect no instruction here. Take 
what you Hke best from my shelves, but you can't 
have my brains." 

"Well, then," I said, "show me your plans in or- 
der, and, if you won't explain them, let me see what I 
can make of them." 

"Ah, young man ! " said Ericsson, "with your lim- 
ited knowledge of simple equations you will run 
aground in a very short time. Look at this drawing 
and tell me what it represents." 

" It looks to me like a coffee-mill," I answered. TheMomtor 

Ericsson jumped from his chair with astonishment was buiit on 
ni his eye. On my word of honor, young man, you the two guns 
are vexing, and I am a fool to waste my time on you. 
That is the machinery that works my turn-table for 
the turret. I have spent many sleepless nights over 
it, and now a man who only knows a little of simple 
equations tells me it's a coffee-mill ! Now what do 
you think of that 1 " continued Mr. Ericsson, handing 
me a small wooden model; "that's my 'iron pot,' as 
you navy people call it." 

I regarded the model with a critical eye, holding it 
upside down. "This," I remarked, "is evidently the 
casemate" — passing my hand over the bottom — 
" and this " — pointing to the turret — " is undoubt- 
edly where you carry the engine." 

"Well! well!" exclaimed Ericsson; "never did I 
see such a — ■ But never mind ; you will learn by and 
by the world was not made in a day." 

So we went on till at length I informed Mr. Erics- 
son that I thought I understood all about his " iron 
pot." 

He was not in a pleasant humor, evidently regard- 



were set in a 

revolving 

turret. 



3 5 o On Deck [no. 90 

ing me as an emissary sent by the department to try 
and bring him to grief. As he did not seem to be in 
a communicative frame of mind, I took a malicious 
pleasure in worrying him. 

After learning all I could possibly from the draw- 
ings and plans of the Monitor, I proposed to the in- 
ventor to go and examine the Simon-pure article, and 
we crossed the ferry to Greenpoint, where, if I re- 
member rightly, the vessel was building. 

Taking off my coat, I penetrated to the innermost 
recesses of the Monitor, followed by Mr. Ericsson, 
who more than once inquired if my simple equations 
enabled me to comprehend the mysteries. 

"Wait till I am done with you," I said; "then the 
laugh will be on you, and you'll see what my simple 
equations amount to." 

"No doubt! no doubt!" he replied, "but it will 
take a big book to hold all you don't know when you 
get through." 

At last, after an hour spent in examining the vessel, 
I emerged from the hold, followed by the inventor, 
who looked displeased enough. " Now, sir," I said, 
" I know all about your machine." 

"Yes," he answered, sneeringly, "and you know 
twice two are four, and a little of simple equations." 

" Now, Mr. Ericsson," I said, " I have borne a good 
deal from you to-day ; you have mocked at my author- 
ity and have failed to treat me with the sweetness I 
had a right to expect. I am about to have satisfac- 
tion, for on my report depends whether or not your 
vessel is accepted by the department ; so I will tell 
you in plain terms what I think of your ' iron 
pot.' " 

" Say what you please," exclaimed Ericsson, glar- 



No. 90] Monitor a?id Merri/uac 351 

ing at me like a tiger ready to spring ; " nobody will 
mind what you say ! " 

"Well, sir," I continued, " I have looked into the 
whole thing from A to Izzard, and " — gazing steadily 
at the inventor, not without apprehensions that he 
might seize me in his muscular arms and squeeze the 
breath out of my body — "I will say this to the Gov- 
ernment — in writing, too, so that there can be no 
mistake." 

" Go on, sir, go on ! " said Ericsson ; "you will run 
on a rock directly." 

"Well, then," I continued, "I will say that Mr. 
Ericsson has constructed a vessel — a very little iron 
vessel — which, in the opinion of our best naval archi- 
tect, is in violation of well-known principles, and 
will sink the moment she touches the water." 

" Oh," said Ericsson, " he's a fool! " 

" But," I continued, " I shall say, also, that Mr. 
Ericsson has constructed the most remarkable vessel 
the world has ever seen — one that, if properly handled, 
can destroy any ship now afloat, and whip a dozen 
wooden ships together if they were where they could 
not manoeuvre so as to run her down." 

Ericsson regarded me in astonishment, then seized 
my hand and almost shook my arm off. " To think ! " 
he exclaimed, " that all this time I took you for a 
fool, and you are not a fool after all ! " 

I laughed heartily, as did Ericsson, and we have 
been the best of friends ever since. 

I telegraphed at once to the Navy Department, 
" Mr. Ericsson's vessel is the best fighting machine 
ever invented, and can destroy any ship of war afloat." 

After examining the Galena^ I telegraphed, " I am 
not satisfied with the vessel ; she is too vulnerable." 



3^2 0?i Deck [No. 91 

On my return to Washington I met a high offi- 
cial of the navy, who said to me : " We received your 
telegram about the Ericsson vessel. Why, man, 
Lenthall says she will sink as soon as she is launched. 
He has made a calculation, and finds she will not 
bear her iron, much less her guns and stores." 

Both Fox and Lenthall soon had reason to change 
their opinions on this subject; both became strong 
advocates of Ericsson's system, and in a short time a 
number of much larger vessels of a similar type with 
the Monitor were commenced, but were not finished 
in time to be of use in the most critical period of the 
civil war, when we came near meeting with serious 
reverses owing to the great energy displayed by the 
Confederates in improvising heavy iron-clads. 

To Ericsson belongs the credit of devising the Mon- 
itor class of vessels, which gave us a cheap and rapid 
mode of building a navy suitable to our wants at the 
time. Through his genius we were enabled to bid 
defiance to the maritime powers which seemed dis- 
posed to meddle with our affairs, and it was owing to 
him that at the end of the civil war we were in a condi- 
tion to prevent any hostile navy from entering our 
ports. 



91. The Little Monitor and the 
Merrimac 

By Charles Martin (1862) 

Companions : I will tell you what I saw at New- 
port News when the Merrimac destroyed the Congress 
and the Cumberland, and fought with the Monitor. It 



mac 

a wooden 

vessel in the 



bow plates. 



354 On Deck [no. 91 

was a drama in three acts, and twelve hours will elapse 
between the second and third acts. 

"Let us begin at the beginning " ^ — 1861. The 
North Atlantic squadron is at Hampton Roads, ex- 
cept the frigate Congress and the razee Cumberland ; 
they are anchored at Newport News, blockading the 
James River and Norfolk. The Merrimac, the rebel 
ram, is in the dry dock of the Norfolk navy-yard. 

i:\vQMerri- The J/(3;///^r is building in New York City. It is 
'^^H^n'"'^" determined to keep the Merrimac in the dry dock, 
wait the arrival of the Monitor, send her out to meet 

old navy, but her, and in the action it is positive that an opportu- 

WaS cut down •■ •^^ rr ^ • I'll T-l 

and built up ^'^Y ^^"- Oner to picrce and smk her. The ram is a 
with sloping terror, and both sides say, " When the Merrimac 
" comes out ! " The last of February, 1862, the Moni- 

tor is ready for sea ; she will sail for Hampton Roads 
in charge of a steamer. There is a rumor that she 
has broken her steering gear before reaching Sandy 
Hook. She will be towed to Washington for repairs. 
The Rebel spies report her a failure — steering defec- 
tive, turret revolves with difficulty, and when the 
smoke of her guns in action is added to the defects of 
ventilation, it will be impossible for human beings to 
live aboard of her. No Monitor to fight, the South- 
ern press and people grumble ; they pitch into the 
Merrimac. Why does she lie idle .'' Send her out to 
destroy the Congress and the Cnmbcrland, that have 
so long bullied Norfolk, then sweep away the fleet at 
Hampton Roads, starve out Fortress Monroe, go 
north to Baltimore and New York and Boston, and 
destroy and plunder ; and the voice of the people, 
not always an inspiration, prevails, and the ram is 
floated and manned and armed, and March 8th is 
bright and sunny when she steams down the Eliza- 



No. 91] Monitor and Merrimac 355 

beth River to carry out the first part of her pro- 
gramme. And all Norfolk and Portsmouth ride and 
run to the bank of the James, to have a picnic, and 
assist at a naval battle and victory. The cry of 
"Wolf!" has so often been heard aboard the ships 
that the Merrimac has lost much of her terrors. 
They argue : " If she is a success, why doesn't she 
come out and destroy us } " And when seen this 
morning at the mouth of the river : " It is only a trial 
trip or a demonstration." But she creeps along the 
opposite shore, and both ships beat to quarters and 
get ready for action. The boats of the Cinnbcrland 
are lowered, made fast to each other in Hne, anchored 
between the ship and the shore, about an eighth of 
a mile distant. 

Here are two large sailing frigates on a calm day, 
at slack water, anchored in a narrow channel, impos- 
sible to get under v/eigh and manoeuvre, and must lie 
and hammer, and be hammered, so long as they hold 
together, or until they sink at their anchors. To 
help them is a tug, the Zouave, once used in the basin 
at Albany to tow canal boats under the grain elevator. 
The Congress is the senior ship ; the tug makes fast 
to her. The Congress slips her cable and tries to get 
under weigh. The tug does her best and breaks her 
engine. The Congress goes aground in line with the 
shore. The Zouave floats down the river, firing her 
pop-guns at the Merrimac as she drifts by her. The 
command of both the ships devolves on the first lieu- 
tenants. On board the Cumberland all hands are 
allowed to remain on deck, watching the slow ap- 
proach of the Mcj'rimac, and she comes on so slowly, 
the pilot declares she has missed the channel ; she 
draws too much water to use her ram. She continues 



356 On Deck [No. 91 

to advance, and two gun-boats, the Yorktozvn and the 
Teazcr, accompany her. Again they beat to quarters, 
and every one goes to his station. There is a plat- 
form on the roof of the Merriniac. Her captain is 
standing on it. When she is near enough, he hails, 
" Do you surrender .-* " " Never ! " is the reply. The 
order to fire is given ; the shot of the starboard bat- 
tery rattles on the iron roof of the Mcrrimac. She 
answers with a shell ; it sweeps the forward pivot 
gun, it kills and wounds ten of the gun's crew. A 
second slaughters the marines at the after pivot gun. 
The Yorktozvn and the Teaser keep up a constant 
fire. She bears down on the Cimibet'land. She rams 
her just aft the starboard bow. The ram goes into 
the sides of the ship as a knife goes into a cheese. 
The Merriniac tries to back out ; the tide is making ; it 
catches against her great length at a right angle with 
the Cumberland ; it slews her around ; the weakened, 
lengthened ram breaks off; she leaves it in the Cum- 
berland. The battle rages, broadside answers broad- 
side, and the sanded deck is red and slippery with 
the blood of the wounded and dying ; they are dragged 
amidships out of the way of the guns ; there is no 
one and no time to take them below. Delirium seizes 
the crew ; they strip to their trousers, tie their hand- 
kerchiefs round their heads, kick off their shoes, fight 
and yell Hke demons, load and fire at will, keep it up 
for the rest of the forty-two minutes the ship is sink- 
ing, and fire a last gun as the water rushes into her 
ports. 

The Merrimac turns to the Congress. She is 
aground, but she fires her guns till the red-hot shot 
from the enemy sets her on fire, and the flames drive 
the men away from the battery. She has forty years 



No. gi] Mo?iitor and Merrinuic 357 

of seasoning ; she burns like a torch. Her command- 
ing officer is killed, and her deck strewn with killed 
and wounded. The wind is off shore ; they drag the 
wounded under the windward bulwark, where all 
hands take refuge from the flames. The sharp- 
shooters on shore drive away a tug from the enemy. 
The crew and wounded of the Congress are safely 
landed. She burns the rest of the afternoon and 
evening, discharging her loaded guns over the camp. 
At midnight the fire has reached her magazines — the 
Congress disappears. 

When it is signalled to the fleet at Hampton Roads 
that the Merrimac has come out, the Minnesota leaves 
her anchorage and hastens to join the battle. Her 
pilot puts her aground off the Elizabeth River, and she 
lies there helpless. The Merrimac has turned back 
for Norfolk. She has suffered from the shot of the 
Congress and the Cumberland, or she would stop and 
destroy the Minnewta ; instead, with the Yorktown 
and Teaser, she goes back into the river. Sunday 
morning, March 9th, the Merrimac is coming out 
to finish her work. She will destroy the Minnesota. 
As she nears her, the Monitor appears from behind 
the helpless ship ; she has slipped in during the 
night, and so quietly, her presence is unknown in 
the camp. And David goes out to meet Goliath, and 
every man who can walk to the beach sits down 
there, spectators of the first iron-clad battle in the 
world. The day is calm, the smoke hangs thick on 
the water, the low vessels are hidden by the smoke. 
They are so sure of their invulnerability, they fight at 
arm's length. They fight so near the shore, the flash 
of their guns is seen, and the noise is heard of the 
heavy shot pounding the armor. They haul out for 



3 5^ ^^ Z)^<:i [No. 92 

breath, and again disappear in the smoke. The 
Merrimac stops firing, the smoke lifts, she is running 
down the Monitor, but she has left her ram in the 
C?(nibcrland. The Monitor slips away, turns, and 
The Merri- rcuews the action. One p.m. — they have fought 
whenever gincc 8.^0 A.M. The crcws of both ships are suffocat- 

tned another . r^ '■ . 

fight and was mg Under the armor. The frames supportmg the 
at last de- jj-qj^ j-QQf pf ^j^g Mcrriniac are sprung and shattered. 

strovcd bv 

the rebels. The turret of the Monitor is dented with shot, and is 
revolved with difficulty. The captain of the Llcrri- 
mac is wounded in the leg ; the captain of the Monitor 
is blinded with powder. It is a drawn game. The 
Merrimac, leaking badly, goes back to Norfolk ; the 
Monitor returns to Hampton Roads. 



92. Chasing a Blockade-runner 

By Captain John Wilkinson (1863) 
Nassau, a We Were ready to sail for Nassua on the 15th of 

harbor in the 
Britisli Ba- 



August, 1863, and had on board, as usual, several 
hamas. passeugcrs. We passed safely through the blockad- 

The block- 
ade runners 
carried in 
arms and 
other war 
material, and 



ing fleet off the New Inlet Bar, receiving no damage 
from the few shots fired at us, and gained an offing 
from the coast of thirty miles by daylight. 

Very soon afterwards the vigilant lookout at the 
carried out mast head called out " Sail ho ! " and in reply to the 
cotton, ai- "where away" from the deck, sang out, "Right 

ways at risk _ -^ _ ' & ' & 

of capture by astcm, sir, and in chase." The morning was very 
the Union clear. Going to the mast head I could iust discern 

Vessels sta- 

tioned there the royal of the chaser, and before I left there, say in 
for that pur- half an hour, her top-gallant sail showed above the 
horizon. By this time the sun had risen in a cloud- 



pose. 



No. 92] Blockade-running 359 

less sky. It was evident our pursuer would be along 
side of us at midday at the rate we were then going. 
The first orders were to throw overboard the deck- 
load of cotton, and to make more steam : the latter 
proved to be more easily given than executed ; for 
the chief engineer reported that it was impossible to 
make steam with the wretched stuff filled with slate 
and dirt. 




ARRIVAL OF MAIL ON PASSAIC. 



A moderate breeze from the north and east had 
been blowing ever since daylight, and every stitch of 
canvas on board the square rigged steamer in our 
wake was drawing. We were steering east by south, 
and it was clear that the chaser's ^advantages could 
only be neutralized either by bringing the Lee gradu- 



360 Ofi Deck [No. 92 

ally head to wind or edging away to bring the wind 
aft. The former course would be running toward the 
land, besides incurring the additional risk of being 
intercepted and captured by some of the inshore 
cruisers. I began to edge away therefore, and in 
two or three hours enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing 
our pursuer slow up and furl his sails. 

The breeze was still blowing as fresh as in the 
morning, but we were now running directly away 
from it, and the cruiser was going literally as fast as 
the wind, causing the sails to be rather a hindrance 
than a help. But she was still gaining on us. A 
happy ' inspiration occurred to me when the case 
seemed hopeless. Sending for the chief engineer I 
said, " Mr. Simoine, let us try cotton saturated with 
spirits of turpentine." There were on board, as part 
of the deck-load, thirty or forty barrels of spirits. In 
a very few moments, a bale of cotton was ripped 
open, a barrel tapped, and buckets full of the satu- 
rated material passed down into the fire room. 

The result exceeded our expectations. The chief 
engineer, an excitable Httle Frenchman, from Charles- 
ton, very soon made his appearance on the bridge, 
his eyes sparkling with triumph, and reported a full 
head of steam. Curious to see the effect upon our 
speed, I directed him to wait a moment until the log 
was hove. I threw it myself, nine and a half knots. 
"Let her go now, sir ! " I said. Five minutes after- 
ward, I hove the log again ; — thirteen and a quarter. 
We now began to hold our own, and even to gain a 
little upon the chaser ; but she was fearfully near, and 
Fortu^arren, I began to havc visions of another residence at Fort 
h"art)o^r°used ^^^^^"' ^^ I saw what Seamen call the "big bone in 
as a prison, the mouth " of our pertinacious friend, for she was 



No. 92] Blockade-running 361 

near enough to us at one time for us to see distinctly 
the white curl of foam under her bows. I wonder 
if they could have screwed another turn of speed 
out of her if they had known that the Lee had on 
board, in addition to her cargo of cotton, a large 
amount of gold shipped by the Confederate govern- 
ment } 

There continued to be a very slight change in our 
relative positions till about six o'clock in the after- 
noon, when the chief engineer again made his appear- 
ance, with a very ominous expression of countenance. 
He came to report that the burnt cotton had choked 
the flues, and that the steam was running down. 
"Only keep her going till dark, sir," I replied, "and 
we will give our pursuer the slip yet." A heavy 
bank was lying along the horizon to the south and 
east, and I saw a possible means of escape. At sun- 
set the chaser was about four miles astern, and gain- 
ing upon us. Calling two of my most reliable officers, 
I stationed one of them on each wheel-house, with 
glasses, directing them to let me know the instant 
they lost sight of the chaser in the growing darkness. 
At the same time I ordered the chief engineer to 
make as black a smoke as possible, and to be in readi- 
ness to cut off the smoke, by closing the dampers 
instantly, when ordered. The twilight was soon suc- 
ceeded by darkness. Both of the officers on the 
wheel-house called out at the same moment, " We 
have lost sight of her," while a dense volume of 
smoke was streaming far in our wake. " Close the 
dampers," I called out through the speaking tube, 
and at the same moment ordered the helm hard a 
star-board. Our course was altered eight points, at a 
right angle to the previous one. I remained on deck 



362 



Ofi Deck 



[No. 93 



an hour, and then retired to my stateroom with a 
comfortable sense of security. 

At one time during the chase, when capture seemed 
inevitable, the kegs containing the gold had been 
brought on deck, and one of them opened by my 
orders, it being my intention to distribute its contents 
among the officers and crew. The chaser proved 
afterward to be the Iroquois. Feeling confident that 
she would continue on the course toward Abaco, and 
perhaps have another and more successful chase, I 
changed the destination of the Lee to Bermuda, where 
we arrived safely two days afterward. 



Mobile was 
defended by 
a fort, a pow- 
erful iron- 
clad, and tor- 
pedoes. To 
attack was 
very danger- 
ous. 



93. Sinking the Tecumseh 

By Loyall Farragut (1864) 

Farragut had fully intended to run into Mobile 
Bay on the 4th of August ; but the non-arrival of 
the Tecumseh from Pensacola, prevented him from 
doing so. It was with great satisfaction that he saw 
her steam behind Sand Island on that afternoon, and 
take up her anchorage with the Winnebago, ManJiat- 
tan, and CJiieksaiv. 

On the morning of the 5th, long before day, 
through the whole fleet could be heard the boat- 
swains' cheery pipes and calls of "all hands" and 
"up all hammocks" — sounds so familiar on ship- 
board ; and soon after an orderly entered the cabin 
and called Captain Drayton. While the Admiral, 
Drayton, and Palmer were partaking of their break- 
fast, daybreak was reported, but weather threatening 
rain. The clouds worked round, however, and in 



No. 93] Sinking the Tecumseh 363 

spite of its being Friday, the sailor's day of misgiv- 
ings, they congratulated themselves on the good 
omen. The wind, too, was west-southwest, just where 
Farragut wanted it, as it would blow the smoke of 
the sfuns on Fort More:an. 




DAVID FARRAGU 



At four o'clock the wooden ships formed in double 
column, lashed in pairs. The Brooklyn was appointed 
to lead, because she had four chase guns, and appa- 
ratus for picking up torpedoes. 

At half past five the Admiral still sipping his tea. 



3^4 



On Deck 



[No. 93 



Barbette 
guns 

mounted on 
a wall, with 
no roof over 
them. 



quietly said, " Well, Drayton, we might as well get 
under way." In one minute answering signals came 
from the whole fleet, the wooden vessels taking up 
their respective positions, and steering for Sand 
Island Channel, while the four monitors filed out of 
Monitor Bay, and formed in a single column to the 
right of the wooden ships, the leading one being 
abreast of the Brooklyn. 

The Confederate vessels had in the meantime taken 
up their position in single line across the channel, 
with their port batteries bearing on the fleet. The 
Tennessee was a Httle westward of the red buoy and 
close to the inner line of torpedoes. 

At 6:47 A.M. the booming of the TccnmseJi s guns 
was heard, and shortly afterwards Morgan replied. 
As the fleet of wooden vessels came within shorter 
range, Farragut made signal for " closer order," 
which was promptly obeyed, each vessel closing up 
to within a few yards of the one ahead, and a httle on 
the starboard quarter, thus enabling such of the ships 
as had chase guns to bring them to bear. The ball 
had opened, but the enemy had the advantage, and 
the Union fleet now received a raking fire from forts 
and rebel gunboats for fully half an hour before they 
could bring their broadsides to bear with effect. But 
at the end of that time the Brooklyn and Hartford 
were enabled to pour in their broadsides, driving the 
gunners from the barbette and water batteries. 

By half past seven the Tecnmseh was well up with 
the fort, and drawing slowly by the Tennessee, hav- 
ing her on the port beam, when suddenly she reeled 
to port and went down with almost every soul on 
board, destroyed by a torpedo. 

Craven, in his eagerness to engage the ram, had 



No. 93] Sinking the Tecumseh 365 

passed to the west of -the fatal buoy. If he had 
gone but his breadth of beam eastward of it, he 
would have been safe so far as torpedoes were con- 
cerned. 

This appalling disaster was not immediately real- 
ized by the fleet. Some supposed the Tennessee had 
been sunk, or some advantage gained over the enemy, 
and cheer after cheer from the Hartford was taken 
up and echoed along the line. But Farragut from 
his lofty perch, saw the true state of affairs, and his 
anxiety was not decreased when the Brooklyn, next 
ahead, suddenly stopped. He hailed his pilot. Free- 
man, above him in the top, to ask, " What is the 
matter with the Brooklyn ? She must have plenty 
of water there." " Plenty and to spare, Admiral," 
the man replied. Alden had seen the Tecumseh go 
down, and the heavy line of torpedoes across the 
channel made him pause. The Brooklyn began to 
back ; the vessels in the rear, pressing on those in 
the van, soon created confusion, and disaster seemed 
imminent. " The batteries of our ships were almost 
silent," says an eye-witness, "while the whole of Mo- 
bile Point was a living flame." 

"What's the trouble.?" was shouted through a 
trumpet from the flag-ship to the Brooklyn. 

"Torpedoes ! " was shouted back in reply. 

"Damn the torpedoes!" said Farragut. "Four Not a refined 
bells ! Captain Drayton, go ahead ! Jouett, full 
speed ! " And the Hartford passed the Brooklyn, he said^ 
assuming the head of the line, and led the fleet to 
victory. It was the one only way out of the diffi- 
culty, and any hesitation would have closed even this 
escape from a frightful disaster. Nor did the Ad- 
miral forget the poor fellows who were struggling in 



expression, 
but it is what 



366 0?i Deck [No. 94 

the water where the TccudiscJi had gone down, but 
ordered Jouett to lower the boat and^ pick up the 
survivors. 



94. Running the Batteries 

By Captain Alfred T. Mahan (1862) 
TheConfed- At ten o'clock that evening the gunboat Carondclet, 

erates had 
heavily foiti 



Mississippi 
River 



Commander Henry Walke, left her anchorage, during 
fied isUnd a heavy thunderstorm, and successfully ran the bat- 
No. 10 in the teries, reaching New Madrid at one p.m. The orders 
to execute this daring move were delivered to Cap- 
tain Walke on the 30th of March. The vessel was 
immediately prepared. Her decks were covered with 
extra thicknesses of planking; the chain cables were 
brought up from below and ranged as an additional 
protection. Lumber and cord-wood were piled thickly 
around the boilers, and arrangements made for letting 
the steam escape through the wheel-houses, to avoid 
the puffing noise ordinarily issuing from the pipes. 
The pilot-house for additional security, was wrapped 
to a thickness of eighteen inches in the coils of a 
large hawser. A barge, loaded with bales of hay, 
was made fast on the port quarter of the vessel to 
protect the magazine. 

The moon set at ten o'clock, and then too was felt 
the first breath of a thunderstorm, which had been 
for some time gathering. The Carondclet swung 
from her moorings and started down the stream. 
The guns were in and ports closed. No light was 
allowed about the decks. Within the darkened case- 
ment of the pilot-house all her crew save two, stood 
in silence, fully armed to repel boarding, should board- 



No. 94] Ricnfiing the Batteries 367 

ing be attempted. The storm burst in full violence 
as soon as her head was fairly down stream. The 
flashes of lightning showed her presence to the Con- 
federates, who rapidly manned their guns, and whose 
excited shouts and commands were plainly heard on 
board as the boat passed close under the batteries. 
On deck, exposed alike to the storm and to the 
enemy's lire, were two men; one, Charles Wilson, a 
seaman, heaving the lead, standing sometimes knee- 
deep in the water that boiled over the forecastle ; the 
other, an officer, Theodore Gilmore, on the upper 
deck forward, repeating to the pilot the leadsman's 
muttered, " No bottom." 

The storm spread its sheltering wing over the gal- 
lant vessel, baifling the excited efforts of the enemy, 
before whose eyes she floated like a phantom ship ; 
now wrapped in impenetrable darkness, now standing 
forth in the full blaze of the lightning close under 
their guns. The friendly flashes enabled the pilot, 
William R. Hoel, who had volunteered from another 
gunboat to share the fortunes of the night, to keep 
her in the channel ; once only, in a longer interval 
between them, did the vessel get a dangerous sheer 
toward a shoal, but the peril was revealed in time to 
avoid it. Not till the firing had ceased did the squall 
abate. 

The passage of the Carondclet was not only one of " island No. 
the most daring and dramatic events of the war ; it Y^"^'^.^^, . 

'^ heavily lorti- 

was also the death-blow to the Confederate defence fied by the 
of this position. The concluding events followed in Confederates 
rapid succession. 

Having passed the island as related, on the night 
of the 4th, the Carondelct on the 6th made a recon- 
noissance down the river as far as Tiptonville, with 



368 



Ofi Deck [No. 95 



General Granger on board, exchanging shots with 
the Confederate batteries, at one of which a landing 
was made and the guns spiked. That night the Pitts- 
burg dX'&o passed the island, and at 6:30 a.m. of the 
7th, the Carondelet got under way, in concert with 
Pope's operations, went down the river, followed 
after an interval by the Pittsburg and engaged the 
enemies' batteries, beginning with the lowest. This 
was silenced in three-quarters of an hour, and the 
others made little resistance. The Carondelet then 
signalled her success to the general and returned to 
cover the crossing of the army, which began at once. 
The enemy evacuated their works, pushing down 
towards Tiptonville, but there were actually no means 
for them to escape, caught between the swamps and 
the river. Seven thousand men laid down their arms, 
three of whom were general officers. At ten o'clock 
that evening the island and garrison surrendered to 
the navy, just three days to an hour after the Caron- 
delet started on her perilous voyage. How much of 
this result was due to the Carondelet and Pittsburg 
may be measured by Pope's words to the flag-officer : 
" The lives of thousands of men and the success of 
our operations hang upon your decision ; with two 
gunboats all is safe, with one it is uncertain." 



95. Escape of the Sumter 

By Captain Raphael Semmes (1864) 

On the morning of the 29th of June, hopes were 
excited by a report from the pilot that the Brooklyn 
had left her station; and speed being got up 



No. 95] Escape of the Sumter 369 



with all haste on the Sumter, she again dropped Semmes, 
down to Pass a L'Outre, but only to find that the 'a;f^<=^Ptai" 

' -' of the famous 



report had been fallacious. The Brooklyn was still Alabama, w^.'s. 
at anchor, though a slight change of berth had placed 
her behind the shelter of a mass of trees. Once more, 
therefore, the Sumter was brought to an anchor ; 
but on the day following, her patient waiting was re- 
warded by the long-looked for opportunity. On the 
morning of the 30th of June the Brooklyn was again 



trying at this 
time to run 
out of the 
Mississippi 
River. 




A BIG SHIP GUN. 



reported under way, and in chase of a vessel to lee- 
ward ; and no sooner was the fact of her departure 
fairly verified than steam was got up for the last 
time, and the little Sumter dashed boldly across the 
bar, and stood out to sea. 

Almost at the last moment, however, it seemed as 
though the attempt to escape were again to be baffled 
by difficulties on the part of the pilot. The man on 
board of the Sumter lost courasre as the moment of 



3 70 On Deck [no. 95 

trial came, and professed his inability to take the 
vessel through the pass thus left free by the depar- 
ture of the Brooklyn, alleging as his excuse that he had 
not passed through it for more than three months. 
Happily the man's cowardice or treachery produced 
no ill effects ; for, as the Sumter dropped down the 
river on her way toward the open sea, another pilot 
came gallantly off to her in his little boat, and volun- 
teered to carry her through the Pass. 

The Sumter had not yet reached within six miles 
of the bar when her movements were perceived from 
the Brooklyn, which at once relinquished the far less 
valuable prize on which she had been hitherto intent ; 
and changing her course, headed at top speed towards 
the bar, in hopes of cutting the Snmtcr off before she 
could reach it. The narrow opening through the bar, 
distant about six miles from either of the opposing 
vessels, now became the goal of a sharp and exciting 
race. The Sumter had the advantage of the stream ; 
but the Brooklyn was her superior in speed, and more- 
over, carried guns of heavier calibre and longer range. 

At length the Pass is reached ; and dashing gallantly 
across it, the little Sumter starboards her helm and 
rounds the mud-banks to the eastward. As she does 
so the Brooklyn rounds to for a moment, and gives 
her a shot from her pivot gun. But the bolt falls 
short ; and now the race begins in earnest. 

The chase had not continued long, when a heavy 
squall of wind and rain came up, and hid the pursuing 
vessel from sight ; but it soon passed away, and the 
Brooklyn was again descried astern, under all sail and 
steam, and evidently gaining upon her little quarry. 
On this the Sumter was hauled two points higher 
up, thus brmging the wind so far forward that the 



No. 96] Passing the Forts 371 

Brooklyn was no longer able to carry sail. And 
now the chase in her turn began to gain upon her 
huge pursuer. But she was getting into salt water, 
and her boilers began to prime furiously. It was 
necessary to slacken speed for a time, and as she did 
so the Brooklyn slowly recovered her advantage. Then 
gradually the foaming in the Sunite/ s boilers ceased, 
and she was again put to her speed. The utmost 
pressure was put on ; the propeller began to move 
at the rate of sixty-five revolutions a minute, and the 
Brooklyn dropped slowly but steadily astern. At 
length she gave up the chase, and at four o'clock in 
the afternoon, just four hours after crossing the bar, 
the crew of the Snniter gave three hearty cheers as 
her baffled pursuer put up her helm, and, relinquish- 
ing the chase, turned sullenly back to her station at the 
mouth of the river. 



96. Passing the Forts on the 
Mississippi. 

By George Hughes Hepwokth (1863) 

We started at four, p.m. ; and anchored just off the in the Guif 
Bar, in the "Father of Waters," some time the next 
evening. I was glad of this ; for it gave me an oppor- 
tunity to see the plantations on each side of the 
river, of which I had heard so much. 

Early in the morning, we entered the Southwest 
Pass, crossed the Bar, and passed the sunken wreck 
of the fire-boat which the rebels had set adrift, in 
hopes thereby to fire Farragut's fleet. It ended its 



of Mexico. 



37 2 On Deck [no. 96 

ignoble career as it should ; finding a grave in Mis- 
sissippi mud. 

The river presented no objects of interest for many 

miles ; indeed, not until we reached the Forts St. 

Philip and Jackson. Jackson is the principal work, 

situated on the right bank of the river, and almost 

Farragut immediately opposite Fort St. Philip. We saw noth- 

came up tiie jj^^r \^q remind us of the struggle which gave us New 

river in April c><j o 

1862. Orleans, except a gunboat or two destroyed during 

the fight, and driven as high as possible on the bank 
of the river. Yet, said they who saw the fight, it 
was a terrible contest. The rebels were fresh, eager 
for the fray, and reckless in their daring. They be- 
lieved themselves secure against any attack of the 
Federals. They had strengthened their fortifications 
in every possible way, and had mounted guns which 
have since been proved excellent. A picket-guard had 
been stationed a couple of miles below to signal the 
first approach of the enemy. They could begin to 
fire at our boats when over two miles distant. 

Besides all this, they had three immense iron cables 
stretched across the, river, to which was attached a 
bridge ; so that communication between the two forts 
was complete. If our fleet should succeed in getting 
opposite the fort, this impediment would bar its fur- 
ther progress ; and, before it could get out of range 
again, it would be utterly destroyed. Our fleet-com- 
mander was aware of the existence of this chain, and 
destroyed it in a very neat way. The water runs, at 
this point, about three miles an hour. This tremen- 
dous pressure brought a great strain against the iron ; 
and, when the floating bridge was attached, the cur- 
rent pressed against the immense amount of wood- 
work, and strained the cable to its utmost. 



No. 96] Passing the Forts 373 

Our commander sent one of his fleetest boats — 
a boat with an iron prow, and sharpened — to stem 
the current at its utmost speed, and strike the cable 
in the centre of the river, where the pressure was 
greatest. The experiment was remarkably successful. 
The boat hit the chain in just the right place, and it 
parted as if by magic ; one half the bridge floating to 
the east side of the river, and the other half to the 
west side. I have often, when a boy, bent a young 
tree, half as thick as my arm, almost to the ground, 
and then, striking it on the upper side where the 
strain was greatest, cut it completely through with 
the quick blow of a hatchet. It was in the same way 
that the great chain was broken. 

The fleet of the Union came up the river slowly, 
— feeling its way along, fearing some infernal 
machine, — and nothing was heard on that calm but 
dark night save the striking of their paddles in the 
water. The decks were filled with men, who expected 
to pay a heavy price for the victory and who 
were willing to give their lives. The pilot. Porter, 
knew every shoal, every bend, every snag. If any- 
body could take our fleet by those forts. Porter was 
the man. I have thought, what an hour of intense 
excitement that must have been on both sides ! The 
rebels did not believe that our men would attempt 
such a hopeless task, yet kept on the alert ; and on 
that night, trained ears were listening to catch the 
sound of paddle-wheels, and trained eyes were peering 
through the darkness. Nobody saw the glorious stars 
and stripes which were floating to the breeze from the 
mast-head of every gunboat. Nobody saw the stars 
and bars which were polluting the air above the forts'. 

Soon, however, the terrific conflict between right and 



3 74 ^^^ Deck [no. 97 

wrong began. Our leading gunboats could not have 
been much more than half a mile distant from the 
fort, when the battle opened by iron hail from the 
rebel guns. Our boats did not answer for a while, 
but kept steadily on, hugging the farther shore. 
When, however, they were directly opposite Fort 
St. Philip, their voices were heard ; and they poured 
upon the rebels a rain which they were not prepared 
for. Still we kept right on ; the object being to get 
by the forts. 

What a picture for the historian to draw ! The 
night was so dark, that the rebels could see to fire, 
only by the flashes from our guns, or perchance by 
the grim blackness of our gunboats, seen against the 
lighter background of the sky. I need not say, that 
our entire fleet got by the forts; and that that night's 
work opened for us the mouth of the Mississippi, and 
gave us New Orleans. 



97. An Unfortunate Cow 

By P^ranc B. Wilkie (1862) 

The siege of It was a sicgc of intolerable length, and without 
Island No. 10 any variety to break the evcrlastincr monotonv. Dur- 

from March . , , , , , , 

17 to April 7. ing the weeks that we were there, there was but 
one event that increased the pulsation of my blood. 
The wooden gunboat Concstoga lay well up the 
river just out of the range of the batteries. There 
were several ammunition boats in the vicinity, which it 
was our duty to guard nights. During the day, the 
Concstoga would drop out into the stream and down 
till within range, and then add her voice to the thun- 
derous concert. 



No. 97] A?t Ufifortunate Cow 375 

This vessel and the ammunition boats at night were 
laid up on the west, or Arkansas shore. Between us 
and the shore there was a swamp densely covered 
with cane, so that access to the boats by land was 
impossible. One night, about eleven o'clock, when 
everybody save those on duty had turned into their 
hammocks, the solemn stillness was suddenly broken 
by a hail from the deck, — " Who goes there } " — 
followed almost instantly by the report of a musket, , 
and scarcely a second later by the roar of our lar- 
board guns. The next moment I rushed out of the 
cabin on deck. It was as dark as Erebus. The 
whistle of the boatswain was calling the men to their 
places, and there was a rush of flying feet. There 
were the creaking of tackle, and then the flash and 
roar of the larboard guns of the Coiiestoga, as they 
blazed away into the woods and the darkness. Down 
the stream in the density of night, activity was notice- 
able among the twinkling lights of the fleet. Signal 
rockets flashed athwart the gloom ; and soon the quick 
pulsations of a steam-tug added its voice to the 
clamor. 

It was tremendously exciting for a few moments. I 
could see no enemy ; grape went crashing through the 
cane and trees and splashing into the water. In 
the obscurity all I could see that was human on 
the deck, when a flash from the guns lighted up the 
scene, was one of the ship boys — a sucking tar of 
about twelve years of age apparently — who was stand- 
ing within the taffrail and blazing into the timber with 
a revolver as fast as he could cock it and pull the trig- 
ger. A tug came alongside from the fleet, and an offi- 
cer climbed up on deck with a lantern. He disappeared 
down the gun deck, and a little later the firing ceased. 



Zl^ 



On Deck 



[No. 98 



The report of the sentinel was to the effect that 
he heard something splashing through the water, 
and had challenged it, and receiving no answer had 
fired off his musket. Some boats were lowered and 
an exploration was made of the vicinity, but nothing 
whatever was discovered. When daylight came, amid 
the torn canes lay the body of a cow, or portions of a 




A QUARTERMASTER S STEAMER. 

COW, for she had been riddled with a charge of grape. 
It was she, that, wading through the water, had ex- 
cited the challenge and alarm of the sentinel, the 
fierce resistance of the gallant Concstoga, and a com- 
motion which affected the entire fleet. 



98. Sinking the Albemarle 

By John Russell Soley (1864) 

The night was dark and stormy, with now and then 
a heavy fall of rain. Most of the officers stood or 



No. 98] linking the Albemarle 377 

sat in the forward part of the launch. The engineers The Aibe- 
and firemen were at their post by the engine, and the ""^'''^''' ^ "^'a"- 

1 . , , , , , 1 . gerous iron- 

rest were stationed in the bow, near the wheel, and in dad, lay off 
the stern. The last were to clear the tiller ropes, in Plymouth, in 

, , , , ^ . the Roanoke 

case they should foul. Kwer. Lieu- 
Running cautiously under the trees on the right tenant Cush- 
bank, the launch proceeded on her way up the enemy's union^navy 
river. It was Cushing's intention, if he could get volunteered 
ashore unobserved, to land below the ram, board her !° ^^=^*''°y 

her. 

from the wharf, and bring her down the river. To 
carry out this plan, it was necessary that the attack 
should be a surprise ; but, failing in this, he was pre- 
pared to attack with the torpedo. In either case he 
meant to give the enemy as little warning as he could. 
Creeping along silently and stealthily, the launch 
approached the landing just below the wharf. Just 
then a dog barked, and a sentry, aroused* discovered 
the boat and hailed her. Receiving no answer, he 
hailed again and fired. Up to this moment not a 
word had been uttered. But in an instant the situa- 
tion was changed. The time for surprises was past ; 
and Gushing, giving up without a second thought his 
cherished project, at once threw off all concealment, 
and in a loud voice called out, " Ahead, fast ! " In 
the same breath he ordered the cutter to cast loose, 
capture the SoittJifiehf s pickets, and go down the 
river. Pushing on two hundred yards further, he 
saw for the first time the dim outlines of the Albe- 
marle, on the port bow, and close aboard. The light 
of the fire showed a line of logs in the water, within 
which, at a distance of .thirty feet, lay the vessel. 
The launch was too near the logs to rise over them 
at the sharp angle her course was then making, and 
Gushing saw that he must sheer off and turn before 



378 On Deck [No. 98 

he could strike them fairly and with sufficient head- 
way. 

The alarm on board the Albemarle had now become 
general ; rattles were sprung ; the bell was rung vio- 
lently ; and a shower of rifle bullets was poured in 
upon the launch. Swan received a sHght wound, and 
Gushing had three bullets in his clothing, but no one 
was disabled. Passing close to the enemy, the launch 
took a wide sweep out to the middle of the river ; 
then turning, it headed at full speed for the ram. As 
he approached. Gushing with the rollicking bravado 
and audacity that marked all his doings, shouted at 
the top of his voice, " Leave the ram ! We are going 
to blow you up ! " with more exclamations of the same 
kind, in which the others joined. To Gushing, who 
went into action with the zest of a school-boy at foot- 
ball, and the nerve and well-balanced judgment of a 
veteran, the whole affair was half sport, even while 
the bullets were flying around him, and while he could 
hear the snapping of the primers, as the guns of the 
ram were brought to bear. Luckily they missed fire. 
As he came near, Gushing ordered the howitzer to be 
trained and fired ; and he directed every movement 
himself, which was promptly carried out by those in 
the bow. He says of this incident in his report : 
" The enemy's fire was very severe, but a dose of 
canister, at short range, served to moderate their zeal 
and disturb their aim." 

In a moment the launch struck the boom of logs, 
abreast of the ram's quarter port, and pressed over 
them. As it approached the side of the ram, the 
torpedo-spar was lowered ; and going ahead slowly 
until the torpedo was well under the Albemarle's 
bottom. Gushing detached it with a vigorous pull. 



No. 98] Sinking the Albemarle 379 

Waiting till he could feel the torpedo rising slowly 
and touching the vessel, he pulled the trigger line 
and exploded it. At the same second, as it seemed 
to those in the boat, the Albemarle s gun was fired, 
while the launch was within a dozen feet of the 
muzzle. To Gushing it seemed that the shot went 
crashing through his boat, though in fact she was 
not touched. A column of water, thrown up by the 
explosion of the torpedo, fell in the launch, which 
was entangled in the logs, and could not be extri- 
cated. 

When Gushing saw that he could not bring the 
boat off, after refusing to surrender, he ordered the 
crew to save themselves, and taking off his coat and 
shoes, jumped into the river. Others followed his 
example ; but all returned except three, - — Woodman, 
and two of the crew, Higgins and Horton. Horton 
made his escape, but the other two were drowned. 

Gushing swam to the middle of the 'stream. Half 
a mile below he met Woodman in the water, com- 
pletely exhausted. Gushing helped him to go on for 
a little distance, but he was by this time too weak to 
get his companion ashore. Reaching the bank with 
difficulty, he waited till daylight, when he crawled 
out of the water and stole into the swamp not far 
from the fort. On his way he fell in with a negro, 
whom he sent to gain information as to the result of 
the night's work. As soon as he learned that the 
Albemai'le was sunk, he moved on until he came to a 
creek, where he captured a skiff, and in this he made 
his way the next night to a picket-boat at the mouth 
of the river. The rest ol the party, unable either 
to resist or escape, surrendered. 



PART VIII 
WOMEN AND THE WAR 



99. " How are you, Sanitary ? " 

By Mary Ashton Livermore (1863) 

It is early morning, — not nine o'clock, for the Throughout 
children are flockins; in merry droves to school. The ^^^ country 

° -' the ladies 

were organ- 



ized to 



air is resonant with their joyous treble and musical 
laughter, as with clustering heads and interlacing 

arms they recount their varied experiences since they pHerand for- 

parted the night before, and rapturously expatiate on ward them to 

the delights of a coming excursion or promised pic- woundtdsoi- 

nic. With a good-bye kiss, I launch my own little diers. iij^the 

ones, bonneted, sacqued, and ballasted with books, ^'^''^ '^^ 

1-11 • / r 1 -1 11 1 1 . troops used 

like the rest, mto the stream of childhood that is to caii to the 

setting in a strong, full current toward the school- agents," How 

room. I then catch the first street-car and hasten to i^tar/°"' The 

the rooms of the Northwestern Sanitary Commission, two powerful 

Early as is my arrival, a dray is already ahead of me, ^'g^e'the san- 

unloading its big boxes and little boxes, its barrels and itaryCom- 

firkins, its baskets and bundles. The sidewalk is bar- n^issionand 

11-11 • IT the Christian 

ricaded with the nondescript and multiform packages, commission, 
which John, the faithful porter, with his inseparable 
truck, is endeavoring to stow away in the crowded 
receiving-room. Here, hammers and hatchets, wedges 
and chisels are in requisition, compelling the crammed 
381 



382 Woj?ien and the War [no. 99 

boxes to disgorge their heterogeneous contents, which 
are rapidly assorted, stamped, repacked, and re- 
shipped, their stay in the room rarely exceeding a 
few hours. 

I enter the office. Ladies are in waiting, desirous 
of information. The aid society in another state, 
of which they are officers, has raised at a Fourth of 
Jiily festival some six hundred dollars, and they wish 
to know how to dispose of it, so as to afford the 
greatest amount of relief to the sick and wounded of 
our army. They were also instructed to investigate 
the means and methods of the Commission, so as to 
carry conviction to a few obstinate skeptics, who 
persist in doubting if the Sanitary Commission, after 
all, be the best means of communication with the 
hospitals. Patiently and courteously the history, 
methods, means, views, and successes of the Com- 
mission are lucidly explained for the hundredth time 
in a month, and all needed advice and instruction 
imparted ; and the enlightened women leave. 

An express messenger enters. He presents a pack- 
age, obtains his fee, gets a receipt for the package, 
and without a word departs. 

Next comes a budget of letters — the morning's 
mail. One announces the shipment of a box of hos- 
pital stores which will arrive to-day. Another scolds 
roundly because an important letter sent a week ago 
has not been answered, while a copy of the answer 
in the copying-book is indisputable proof that it has 
received attention, but has in some way miscarried. 
A third narrates a bugaboo story of surgeons and 
nurses in a distant hospital, with gluttonous habits, 
who are mainly occupied in "seeking what they can 
devour" of the hospital deHcacies, so that little is 



No. 99] Sanitary Commission 383 

saved for their patients. A fourth pleads passion- 
ately that the writer may be sent as a nurse to the 
sad, cheerless, most poorly furnished and far-away 
hospitals. 

A fifth is the agonized letter of a mother and 
widow, blistered with tears, begging piteously that the 
Commission will search out and send to her tidings 
of her only son, who has not been heard from since 
the battle of Grand Gulf. A sixth asks assistance in 
organizing the women of a distant town, who have 
just awakened to their duty to their brothers in the 
field. A seventh is a fetter from two nine-year-old 
girls, who have between them earned five dollars, and 
wish to spend it for the poor sick soldiers. An eighth 
begs that one of the ladies of the Commission will 
visit the aid society of the town in which the writer 
lives, and rekindle the flagging zeal of the tired 
workers. They propose to cease work during the 
hot weather, forgetting that our brave men halt not 
on their marches, and postpone not their battles, 
because of the heat or of weariness. A ninth 
announces the death of one of our heroic nurses, who 
was sent by the Commission a few months ago to 
Tennessee — a serious, comely girl, with heart as 
true as steel, and soul on fire with patriotic desire 
to do something for her country, and who has now 
given her life. And so on through a package of 
twenty, thirty, forty, sometimes fifty letters ; and 
this is but one mail of the day. 

Now begins the task of replying to these multi- 
tudinous epistles — a work which is interrupted every 
five minutes by some new comer. A venerable man 
enters, walking slowly, and my heart warms towards 
him. I remember my aged father, a thousand miles 



of war. 



384 lVome?t and the Wa?' [No. 99 

away, who is, like him, white-haired and feeble. He 
has been liere before, and I immediately recognize 
him. 

" Have you heard anything yet from my son in Van 
Buren Hospital, at Milliken's Bend } " 

" Not yet, sir ; you know it is only nine days since 
I wrote to inquire for him. I will telegraph if you 
think best." 
This is apart " No matter;" and the old man's lip quivers, his 
figure trembles violently, a sob chokes him, his eyes 
fill with tears, as with a deprecating wave of the 
hand he says, "No matter now!" 

I understand it all. It is all over with his boy, and 
the cruel tidings have reached him. I rise and offer 
my hand. He encloses it convulsively in his, leans 
his head against the iron column near my desk, and 
his tears drop steadily. 

"Your son has only gone a little before you," I 
venture to say ; " only a hand's breadth of time be- 
tween you now." 

" Yes," adds the poor old father ; " and he gave his 
life for a good cause — a cause worthy of it if he had 
been a thousand times dearer to me than he was." 

"And your boy's mother — how does she bear this 
grief ? " 

The tears rain down his cheeks now. 

" It will kill her ; she is very feeble." 

Sympathy and comfort are proffered the poor 
father, and after a little the sorrowing man turns 
again to his desolate home. 

A childish figure drags itself into the room, shuf- 
fles heavily along, drops into a chair, and offers a 
letter. I open the letter and read. He is a mes- 
senger-boy from Admiral Porter's gunboats, who is 



No. 99] Sanitary Commission 385 

sent North with the request that the child be properly 
cared for. Not thirteen years old, and yet he has 
been in many battles, and has run the gauntlet of 
the Vicksburg batteries, which for ten miles belched 
forth red-hot and steel-pointed shot and shell, in fruit- 
less efforts to sink the invulnerable ironclads. Fever, 
too much medicine, neglect, and exposure, have done 
their worst for the little fellow, who has come North, 
homeless and friendless, with the right side paralyzed. 
He is taken to the Soldiers' Home, and for the pres- 
ent is consigned to the motherly care of the good 
ladies who preside there. 

A bevy of nurses enter next with carpet-bags, 
shawls, and bundles. A telegram from the Com- 
mission has summoned them, for the hospitals at 
Memphis need them, and straightway they have 
girded themselves to the work. One is a widow, 
whose husband fell at Shiloh ; another is the wife of 
a lieutenant at Vicksburg ; a third lost her brother 
at Chancellorsville; a fourth has no family ties, and 
there is no one to miss her while absent, or to mourn 
her if she never returns. They receive their instruc- 
tions, commissions, and transportation, and hurry on- 
ward. 

Ah ! that v/hite, anxious face, whiter than ever, is 
again framed in the doorway. Is there no possible 
escape from it.^" One, two, three, four days she has 
haunted these rooms, waiting the answer to the tele- 
gram despatched to Gettysburg, where her son was 
wounded ten days ago. The answer to the telegram 
is this moment in my pocket — how shall I repeat its 
stern message to the white-faced, sorrow-stricken 
mother .'' I involuntarily leave my desk, and bustle 
about, as if in search of something, trying to think 



386 Women and the War [No. 99 

how to break the news. I am spared the effort, for 
the morning papers have announced her bereave- 
ment, and she has only come to secure the help of 
the Commission in obtaining possession of her dead. 
There are no tears, no words of grief ; only a still 
agony, a repressed anguish, which it is painful to 
witness. Mr. Freeman accompanies her to the rail- 
road officials, where his pleading story wins the 
charity of a free pass for the poor woman to the 
military line. There she must win her way, aided 
by the letters of endorsement and recommendation 
we give her. Bowing under her great sorrow, she 
goes forth on her sacred pilgrimage. 

Soldiers from the city hospitals visit us, to beg a 
shirt, a pair of slippers, a comb, or a well-filled pin- 
cushion, something interesting to read, or paper, 
envelopes, and stamps, to answer letters from wives, 
mothers, and sweethearts. They tarry to talk over 
their trials, sufferings, and privations, and their anx- 
iety to get well and join their regiments, which is 
better than being cooped up in a hospital, even when 
it is a good one. They are praised heartily, petted 
in motherly fashion as if they were children, which 
most sick men become, urged to come again, and 
sent back altogether lighter-hearted than when they 
came. 

So the day wears away. More loaded drays drive 
to the door with barrels of crackers, ale, pickles, sauer- 
kraut, and potatoes, with boxes of shirts, drawers, con- 
densed milk and beef, with bales of cotton and flannel 
for the sewing-room, all of which are speedily disposed 
of, to make room for the arrivals of the morrow. Men 
and women come and go — to visit, to make inquiries, 
to ask favors, to offer services, to criticise and find 



No. looj Gifts for the Soldiers 387 

fault, to bring news from the hospitals at Vicksburg, 
Memphis, Murfreesboro' and Nashville, to make in- 
quiries for missing men through the Hospital Directory 
of the Commission, to make donations of money, always 
needed, to retail their sorrows, and sometimes to idle 
away an hour in the midst of the hurrying, writing, 
copying, mailing, packing and shipping of this busy 
place. 

The sun declines westward, its fervent heat is abat- 
ing, and the hands of the clock point to the hour of 
six, and sometimes to seven. Wearied in body, 
exhausted mentally, and saturated with the passing 
streams of others' sorrows, I select the letters which 
must be answered by to-morrow morning's mail, 
replies to which have been delayed by the interrup- 
tions of the day, and again hail the street-car, which 
takes me to my home. 



100. Gifts for the Soldiers 

By Mary Ashton Livermore (1863) 

A POOR girl, who called herself a tailoress, came 
one day to the rooms of the Commission. 

" I do not feel right," she said, " that I am doing 
nothing for our soldiers in the hospitals. I must do 
something immediately. Which do you prefer — that 
I should give money, or buy material and manufac- 
ture it into hospital clothing .? " 

" You must be governed by your circumstances," 
was the answer made her. " We need both money 
and supplies, and you must do that which is most 
convenient for you." 



388 JVof?ien a?id the JVa?' [no. 100 

" I prefer to give money, if it will do as much 
good." 

"Very well, then, give money. We need it badly, 
and without it cannot do what is most necessary for 
our brave men." 

" I will give the Commission my net earnings for 
the next two weeks. I would give more, but my 
mother is an invalid, and L help support her. Usually 
I make but one vest a day, as I do 'custom work,' and 
am well paid for it. But these next two weeks, which 
belong to the soldiers, I shall work earlier and later." 

In two weeks she came again, the poor sewing girl, 
with a radiant face. Opening her porte-monnaie, she 
counted out ninteen dollars and thirty-seven cents. 
She had stitched into the hours of midnight on every 
one of the working days of those two weeks. 

A little girl, not nine years old, with sweet and 
timid grace, entered one afternoon, and laid a five- 
dollar gold piece on my desk. Half-frightened, she 
told its story. " My uncle gave me that before the 
war, and I was going to keep it always. But he's 
got killed in the army, and now mother says I may 
give it to the soldiers if I want to — and I'd like to. 
Will it buy much for them .? " 

I led the child to the store-room, and pointed out 
to her what it would buy — so many cans of con- 
densed milk, or so many bottles of ale, or so many 
pounds of tea, or codfish. Her face brightened with 
pleasure. But when I explained that her five-dollar 
gold piece was equal then to seven and a half dollars 
in greenbacks, and told her how much comfort could 
be carried into a hospital with the amount of stores it 
would purchase, she fairly danced for joy. "Why, 
my five dollars will do lots of good, won't it 1 " 



No. loo] Gifts for the Soldiers 389 

Folding her hands before her in a charmingly ear- 
nest way, she begged me to tell her something that 
I had seen in the hospitals. A narration of a few 
touching events, such as would not too severely shock 
the child, but which showed the necessity of con- 
tinued benevolence to the hospitals, brought tears to 
her eyes, and the resolution to her lips, to " get all 
the girls to save their money to buy things for the 
wounded soldiers." And away she ran, happy in the 
luxury of doing good. 

A little urchin who often thrust his unkempt pate 
into the room, with the shrill cry of " Matches ! 
Matches ! " had stood a little apart, watching the girl, 
and listening to the conversation. As she disap- 
peared, he fumbled in his pockets, and drew out a 
small handful of crumpled fractional currency, such 
as was then in use. " Here," said he, " I'll give yer 
suthin' for them are sick fellers ! " And he put fifty- 
five cents in my hand, all in five-cent currency. I 
was surprised, and hesitated. 

" No, my boy, don't give it. I am afraid you can- 
not afford it. You're a noble little fellow, but that is 
more than you ought to give. You keep it, and I'll 
give fifty-five cents for you — or somebody else will." 

" Git eout ! " was his disgusted commentary on my 
proposal. " Yer take it, now. P'raps I ain't so poor 
as yer think. My father, he saws wood, and my 
mother, she takes in washin', and I sells matches, and 
Tom, he sells papers, and p'raps we've got more 
money than yer think. Our Bob, he'd a gone to the 
war hisself, but he got his leg cut off on the railroad, 
in a smash-up. He was a brakeman, yer see. You 
take this, now ! " 

I took the crumpled currency. I forgot the boy's 



390 Women arid the Wa?^ [no. ioi 

dirty face and tattered cap ; I forgot that I had called 
the little tatterdemalion a " nuisance " every day for 
months, when he had caused me to jump from my 
seat with his shrill, unexpected cry of " Matches ! " 
and I actually stooped to kiss him. 

He divined my intention and darted out on the 
sidewalk as if he had been shot. 

" No, yer don't ! " he said, shaking his tangled head 
at me, and looking as if he had escaped a great dan- 
ger. " I ain't one o' that kissin' sort ! " 

Ever after, when he met me, he gave me a wide 
berth, and walked off the sidewalk into the gutter, 
eyeing me with a suspicious, sidelong glance, as 
though he suspected I still thought of kissing him. 
If I spoke to him, he looked at me shyly and made 
no reply. But if I passed him without speaking, he 
challenged me with a hearty " Hullo, yer ! " that 
brought me to an instant halt. 



IOI. A Too Successful Tombola 

By Eliza Ripley (1862) 
This piece In the neighboring city of Baton Rouge we organ- 

southera '^^ ^^^^ ^^^ Campaign Sewing Society : its very title 
organizations shows how transient we regarded the emergency ; 
for the Con- how little we deemed the campaign would develop 

federate sol- . . , , r^^ r . , 

diers. I'^to a tour years war. There many of us received 

our first lessons in the intricacies of coats and panta- 
loons. I so well remember when, in the glory of my 
new acquirements, I proudly made a pair of cotton- 
ade trousers for a brother we were fitting out in sur- 
passing style for service, my embarrassment and 



No. loi] Successful Tombola 391 

consternation when I overheard him slyly remark to 
my husband that he had to stand on his head to but- 
ton them — they lapped the wrong way! Stockings 
had also to be provided, and expert knitters found 
constant work. By wearing a knitting bag at my 
side, and utilizing every moment, I was by no means 




CONFEDERATE MONEY. 



the only one able to turn off a coarse cotton stocking, 
with a rather short leg, every day. 

From the factory in our little city — the only one, 
by the way, of any size or importance in the state — 
we procured the cloth required for suits, but in the 
lapse of time, the supply of buttons, thread, needles, 
and tape, in fact of all the little accessories of the 
sewing room, was exhausted, and to replenish the 
stock our thoughts and conversation were necessarily 



a kind of 
raffle 



392 JVor?ieTi and the War [No. ioi 

turned into financial channels. I cordially recommend 
to societies and impecunious institutions the scheme 
in all its entirety that we adopted, as vastly superior 
to the ordinary and much maligned fair ; the plan 
was the offspring of necessity ; the demand was so 
instant and urgent that we could undertake no fair or 
entertainment that involved time, work, or expense. 
A tombola is A tombola, whcre every article is donated and 
every ticket draws a prize, was the happy result of 
numerous conferences. The scheme was discussed 
with husbands and brothers ; each suggested an ad- 
vancement or improvement on the other, until the 
project expanded so greatly, including all classes and 
conditions of donors, that it was quickly found that 
not only a large hall, but a stable and a warehouse 
would also be required to hold the contributions, 
which embraced every imaginable article from a tooth- 
pick to a cow ! 

The hall was soon overflowing with minor articles 
from houses and shops. Nothing was either too 
costly or too insignificant to be refused : a glass 
show-case glittered with jewelry of all styles and 
patterns, and bits of rare old silver ; pictures, and en- 
gravings, old and faded, new and valuable, hung side 
by side on the walls ; odd pieces of furniture, work- 
boxes, lamps and candelabra were arranged here and 
there, to stand out in bold relief amid an immense 
array of pencils, tweezers, scissors, penknives, tooth- 
picks, darning needles, and such trifles ; the stalls of 
the stable were tenanted by mules, cows, hogs with 
whole litters of pigs, and varieties of poultry ; the 
warehouse groaned under the weight of barrels of 
sugar, molasses, and rice, and bushels of meal, pota- 
toes, turnips and corn. Tickets for a chance at this 



No. 



] Successful Tonihola 393 



miscellaneous collection sold for one dollar each. As 
is ever the case, the blind goddess is capricious : with 
the exception of an old negro woman who won a set 
of pearls, I cannot remember anyone who secured a 
prize worth the price of the ticket. I invested in 
twenty tickets, for which I received nineteen lead- 
pencils and a frolicsome old goat, with beard hanging 
down to his knees, and horns like those which brought 
down the walls of Jericho. Need I add that the gen- 
eral commanding refused to receive that formidable 
animal at Arlington .'' 

The tombola was a grand, an overwhelming suc- 
cess ; without one dollar of outlay — the buildings and 
necessary printing had been donated — we made six 
thousand dollars. Before this sum could be sent to 
New Orleans, that city was in the hands of its 
captors. 

Thus cut off from the means of securing necessary 
supplies, and at the same time for facilities for com- 
munication with those whom we sought to aid, the 
Campaign Sewing Society sadly disbanded. The 
busy workers retired to their own houses, the treas- 
urer fled with the funds for safe-keeping, and, when 
she emerged from her retreat, six thousand dollars in 
Confederate paper was not worth six cents. 



394 IVomen and the War [no. 102 
102. "I am a Southern Girl" 

Oh, yes, I am a Southern girl 

And glory in the name, 
And boast it with far greater pride 

Than glittering wealth or fame. 
We envy not the Northern girl 

With robes of beauty rare. 
Though diamonds grace her snowy neck 

And pearls bedeck her hair. 



Dress goods 
of all kinds 
were very 
scarce and 
dear in the 
South during 
the war. 



Hurrah, hurrah, 

For the Sunny South so dear. 
Three cheers for the homespun dress 

That Southern ladies wear ! 

The homespun dress is plain, I know, 

My hat's palmetto, too, 
But then it shows what Southern girls 

For Southern rights will do. 
We have sent the bravest of our land 

To battle with the foe 
And we will lend a helping hand ; 

We love the South, you know. 



Now, Northern goods are out of date, 

And since old Abe's blockade. 
We Southern girls can be content 

With goods all Southern made. 
We sent our sweethearts to the war, 

But, dear girls, never mind. 
Your soldier love will ne'er forget 

The girl he left behind. 



No. 103] A Souther7t Gi?^! 395 

The soldier is the lad for me, 

A brave heart I adore ; 
And when the Sunny South is free, 

And when the fight's no more, 
I'll choose me then a lover brave 

From out the gallant band ; 
The soldier lad I love the best 

Shall have my heart and hand. 

The Southern land's a glorious land, 

And has a glorious cause ; 
Then cheer, three cheers for Southern rights 

And for the Southern boys, 
We'll scorn to wear a bit of silk, 

A bit of Northern lace. 
And make our homespun dresses up, 

And wear them with such grace. 

And now, young men, a word to you : 

If you would win the fair, 
Go to the field where honor calls. 

And win your lady there. 
Remember that our brightest smiles 

Are for the true and brave, 
And that our tears are all for those 

Who fill a soldier's grave. 



103. The Yankee Wounded 

By B. Estvan (1863) 

I TOOK a great interest in the fate of the poor 
wounded prisoners in the hospitals at Richmond, — 
firstly, because, owing to the animosity which prevailed 



39^ Wo??ien a?id the War [no. 103 

against the Yankees, I fancied they would not be 
much cared for ; and, secondly, because I was aware 
that, even with the best intentions, the Government 
could not do much for so many as thirty thousand 
wounded men. Richmond, at that time, had the ap- 
pearance of a great hospital. Every public building 
was filled with the sick and wounded. Many of the 
patients had never been in action. Bad food, insuffi- 
cient clothing, and want of proper attention had 
brought them into a state of disease. Two surgeons 
to attend upon six hundred patients were all- I found 
in one hospital ; happily, among the prisoners there 
were a few medical men, who did what they could to 
alleviate the suffering of their comrades. I shud- 
dered at the spectacle I had to witness ; the wounds 
of many had not been attended to, and their clothing 
was stiff from clotted blood. I did what I could to 
improve their condition. I went from bed to bed, 
promising to exert all my influence in their favor, and 
many a poor fellow looked me his silent thanks. 

I called upon General Winder to represent the case 
of these unfortunate men. Whilst every attention 
was paid to our own wounded and sick by the inhabi- 
tants, the unfortunate prisoners were allowed to rot 
and die. General Winder could not withstand my 
appeal, and promised me his assistance. I then ap- 
pealed to the German and Irish population to come 
forward and do something for the poor prisoners, 
and in a few hours that appeal was responded to. I 
myself sent everything I could spare from my ward- 
robe. Many a bottle of wine and parcel of lint, pre- 
pared by German ladies, now found their way to the 
hospitals, and the Irish population, with their natural 
good nature, brought all the linen they could spare 



No. 103] Yankee Wounded 397 

to the surgeons of the prisoners. When it is con- 
sidered that the persons who did this ran the risk of 
being arrested by the secret police, the very smallest 
gifts rank as great sacrifices, for even a glance of 
pity at a poor sick enemy would have brought them 
under the suspicion of being traitors to their country. 
In a few days some sort of system was introduced 
into the prisoners' hospital. The sick were attended 
to and waited upon, received changes of linen, and 
were cheered with the hope of recovery. Many a 
tear rolled down their pale cheeks, and many a bless- 
ing was bestowed on me on the day when I took 
leave of them, and I left with the conviction that I 
had preserved the life of many a brave fellow. 

After the seven days' fight before Richmond, 
hundreds of wounded, friend and foe, were brought 
into Richmond, where for a long time they were left 
exposed to a broiling sun upon the platform of the 
railway station. I went with a friend of mine, Captain 
Travers, son of an admiral in the Confederate fleet, 
to the station, to render help. Owing to the destruc- 
tion of the Merrimac, Captain Travers was out of 
employment, and was in plain clothes. Captain 
Travers was a fine-looking man, had travelled far, 
and was a perfect gentleman. When we reached the 
station, the greatest confusion prevailed ; groups of 
wounded lay in all directions ; a number of benevo- 
lent ladies, with their black servants, were distribut- 
ing tea, coffee, chocolate, and broth, to the wounded. 

However, I soon observed that they took no notice 
of many of the sufferers. Some one touched my spur, 
and on looking down, I beheld one of those ghastly 
faces which can never be forgotten. It was that of a 
stately-looking soldier of the enemy, in full uniform. 



3 9 8 ^omen and the War [no. 103 

"You are a German ofificer," he said. "Yes, com- 
rade," I replied; and his eye brightened. "Then I 
beg of you, most earnestly," he said, "to get me a 
cup of coffee." Both Travers and myself immedi- 
ately went up to a lady who belongs to one of the 
best families of the South, and who had just passed 
the poor fellow by, without taking any notice of him. 
"Madam St. Clair," I said, "will you give me a cup 
of coffee for a wounded man .'' " " Oh, certainly," she 
said, and her servant handed me a cup. I hastened 
back, but whilst I was stooping down to give it to the 
wounded man, some one pulled me by the sleeve, and 
to my astonishment, it was Mrs. St. Clair, who, in a 
harsh voice, asked me if I was aware I was helping a 
miserable Yankee. " No, madam," I replied, " I do 
not know that, but I know that he is a brave soldier, 
as is proved by his wounds." At the same time I 
gave this prejudiced woman a look of scorn, which 
made her beat a hasty retreat, and I then gave the 
coffee to the wounded man. Tears ran down his fur- 
rowed, sunburnt cheeks, and having somewhat re- 
covered himself, he whispered to me, " I am a Swiss ; 
I served for ten years in the Kabermatter regiment 
at Naples, but never thought I should die in such a 
hole as this." I endeavored to console him as best I 
could. 

Captain Travers now arrived with a basket of 
strawberries, and pressing some between his fingers, 
put them into the poor fellow's mouth. Whilst thus 
occupied, a man seized him by the arm, and said, " I 
arrest you." It was one of the police agents. Cap- 
tain Travers drew himself up to his full height. " On 
what ground ? " he said. " Because you are helping 
the enemy," he replied, " and all the ladies here are 



No. I04] A Nurses Experience 399 

talking about it." "If it is your intention to arrest me, 
you can do your vile work at the American Hotel, 
where I am staying. My name is Captain Travers." 
As if he had been bitten by a snake, the miserable 
wretch started back, pleaded duty and the instigation 
of the ladies as his excuse, and went away. 



104. A Nurse's Experience 

By Louisa May Alcott (1862) 

Presently Miss Blank tore me from my refuge it is worth 
behind piles of one-sleeved shirts, odd socks, band- whiietoknow 

, , . , . , 1111 how much 

ages and Imt ; put basm, sponge, towels, and a block 



of brown soap into my hands with these appalling 
directions : — 



our fathers 
endured in 
the Civil War 
and how ter- 

" Come, my dear, begin to wash as fast as you can. ribie war is. 
Tell them to take off socks, coats, and shirts, scrub 
them well, put on clean shirts, and the attendants 
will finish them off, and lay them in bed." 

If she had requested me to shave them all, or 
dance a hornpipe on the stove funnel, I should have 
been less staggered; but to scrub some dozen lords 
of creation at a moment's notice, was really — 
really — . However, there was no time for nonsense, 
and having resolved when I came to do everything 
I was bid, I drowned my scruples in my wash-bowl, 
clutched my soap manfully, and assuming a business- 
like air, made a dab at the first dirty specimen I saw, 
bent on performing my task vi et armis if necessary. 
I chanced to light ■ on a withered old Irishman, 
wounded in the head, which caused that portion of 
his frame to be tastefully laid out like a garden, the 



400 Women and the War [no. 104 

bandages being the walks, his hair the shubbery. 
He was so overpowered by the honor of having a 
lady wash him, as he expressed it, that he did nothing 
but roll up his eyes, and bless me, in an irresistible 
style which was too much for my sense of the ludi- 




A NORTHERN BELLE. 



crous; so we laughed together, and when I knelt 
down to take off his shoes, he " flopped " also and 
wouldn't hear of my touching "them dirty craters. 
May your bed above be aisy darlin' for the day's 
work ye are doing ! — Woosh ! there ye are, and 



No. I04] A Nu7^se s Experience 401 

bedad, it's hard tellin' which is the dirtiest, the fut or 
the shoes." It was, and if he hadn't been to the fore, 
I should have gone on pulHng under the impression 
that the " fut " was a boot, for trousers, socks, shoes, 
and legs were a mass of mud. This comical tableau 
produced a general grin, at which propitious begin- 
ning I took heart, and scrubbed away like any tidy 
parent on a Saturday night. Some of them took the 
performance like sleepy children, leaning their tired 
heads against me while I worked, others looked 
grimly scandalized, and several of the roughest 
colored hke bashful girls. One wore a soiled little 
bag about his neck, and as I moved it to bathe his 
wounded breast, I said : - — 

" Your talisman didn't save you, did it } " 

" Well, I reckon it did, marm, for that shot would 
have gone a couple of inches deeper but for my old 
mammy's camphor bag," answered the cheerful 
philosopher. 

Another, with a gun shot through the cheek, asked 
for a looking-glass, and when I brought one, regarded 
his swollen face with a dolorous expression, as he 
muttered : — 

" I vow that's bad ! I warn't a bad looking chap 
before, and now I'm done for. Won't there be a 
thundering scar .'' and what on earth will Josephine 
Skinner say 1 " 

He looked at me with his one eye so appealingly 
that I controlled my laughter, and assured him that if 
Josephine was a girl of sense, she would admire the 
honorable scar, as a lasting proof that he had faced 
the enemy, for all women thought a wound the best 
decoration a brave soldier could wear. 

The next scrubbee was a nice looking lad, with 



40 2 Women afid the IV ar [no. 104 

a curly brown mane, and a budding trace of ginger- 
bread over the lip, which he called his beard, and 
defended stoutly when the barber jocosely suggested 
its immolation. He lay on a bed with one leg gone 
and the right arm so shattered that it must evidently 
follow ; yet the little Sergeant was as merry as if his 
afflictions were not worth lamenting over, and when 
a drop or two of salt water mingled with my suds at 
the sight of this strong young body so marred and 
maimed, the boy looked up with a brave smile 
though there was a little quiver on the lips, as he 
said : — 

" Now don't you fret yourself about me, miss ; I'm 
first rate here, for it's nuts to lie still on this bed, 
after knocking about in those confounded ambulances, 
that shake what there is left of a fellow to jelly. I 
never was in one of these places before, and think 
this cleaning up a jolly thing for us, though I'm 
afraid it isn't for you ladies." 

" Is this you're first battle. Sergeant } " 

" No, miss ; I've been in six scrimmages, and never 
got a scratch till this last one ; but it's done the busi- 
ness pretty thoroughly for me, I should say. Lord ! 
What a scramble there will be for arms and legs 
when we old boys come out of our graves on Judg- 
ment Day. Wonder if we shall get our own again .-• 
If we do, my leg will have to tramp from Fredericks- 
burg, my arm from here, I suppose, and meet my 
body, wherever it may be." 

The fancy seemed to tickle him mightily, for he 
laughed blithely, and so did I ; which, no doubt, 
causes the new nurse to be regarded as a light-minded 
sinner by the Chaplain, who roamed vaguely about, 
informing the men that they were all worms, corrupt 



No. 105] In the Hospital 



403 



of heart,' with perishable bodies, and souls only to 
be saved by a diligent perusal of certain tracts, and 
other equally cheering bits of spiritual consolation, 
when spirituous ditto would have been preferred. 



105. In the Hospital 

By James Kendall Hosmer (1863) 

My first visit to the hospital put me face to face 
with its gloomiest spectacles. A mail had come, and 




[N THE HOSPITAL, 



it fell to me to distribute to the patients their letters. 
I had been giving letters to well men, had my own 
pocket full, was happy myself, and had come from 
among men as happy as men ever are ; for I have 
discovered the secret of happiness to be hidden in 



404 If^omen and the If^ar [no. 105 

mail-bags. I rushed up the stairs leading to the sec- 
ond story of the building, the rooms of which are 
used as part of the hospital. Two or three doors 
were before me. I opened the first, and found my- 
self alone in the presence of a corpse. It was the 
body of a man who had died the night before. He 
lay in full soldier's dress, decently brushed coat with 
mihtary buttons, and with a white cloth covering the 
face. He was buried in the afternoon ; the regiment 
drawn up in a hollow square, solemnly silent, while 
the service was performed : then standing reverently 
while the body and its escort with the muffled drum 
moved to the burial. I have heard of the wail of 
the fife, but never made it real to myself until then, 
when across the parade-grovmd, down the street, then 
from the distance, came the notes of the Dead March. 

In the next room to the one in which lay the 
corpse, the floor was covered with pale, sick men. 
Now they have rough bedsteads or bunks ; but then 
there was nothing but the mattress under them, and 
sometimes only the blankets. One or two attendants, 
as many as could be spared from the regiment, had 
the care of the whole ; but they were far too few. 
One poor man was in a sad way, with inflammatory 
rheumatism, which made it very painful for him to 
stir ; — crouching, wrapped up in blankets over the 
fire, or stretched out on a floor. God pity the world 
if it has sights in it more melancholy than a military 
hospital ! 

The hospital of our regiment is only in part located 
in these rooms, of which I have been writing. Most 
of the patients (I am sorry to write, they are very nu- 
merous) are in a larger building, once a hotel, which 
lies a few rods outside the lines. Well do I know the 



No. 105] In the Hospital 405 

road thither now, by night or day, by storm or sun- 
shine ; for, after the doctor's visits, it is my work to 
go to the hospital-steward after the medicines and 
comforts for my sick men. How many times already 
have I climbed the steep clay bank of the parapet, 
then slid down into the ditch outside! — 2. hill of dif- 
ficulty in bad weather, when one's feet slip from 
under him in the slimy soil. The old bar-room of 
the hotel is now the hospital-kitchen and head-quar- 
ters of the surgeon and steward. Above the bar is 
a flaring gilt sign, " Rainbow Saloon " ; and below 
it, along the shelves which once held the liquors, 
are arranged the apothecary stores of the regiment. 
The steward is constantly busy, — one of the hardest- 
worked men in the regiment, I believe ; for he pre- 
pares pills and powders by the thousand, and the 
rattle of his pestle is almost constant. 

In the rooms above lie the sick men, and in one 
apartment the surgeon is quartered. Every morn- 
ing, just at light, "surgeon's call" is beaten; and 
from each company a sergeant marches off at the 
head of a long line of sick men to be prescribed for. 
These men are unwell, but not so badly off as to be 
obliged to leave their ordinary quarters for the ac- 
commodations of the hospital. 

Let us go up stairs into this second story. At the 
head of the staircase, the door of a room is ajar; and 
I see the bed on which generally is lying one of the 
sickest patients of the hospital, soqje man near to 
death, — a comfortable, canopied bed, a death-bed 
for numbers. To-night, poor Paine, of our company, 
who died a little while ago, has just been laid out 
there. An entry runs north and south, from which, 
on each side, open the doors of other sick-rooms, 



4o6 Women and the War [no. 105 

where men with fever and dysentery, with agues, 
and racking, lung-shattering coughs, He stretched 
on mattresses. Here is one with ghastly fever-light 
in his eyes; there, one pale and hollow-cheeked. 
Wrapped to the chin in blankets, some are; some 
parched with the fire of disease, —their buttons and 
gay dress-coats, the finery in which they used to 
appear at dress-parade, hanging forlornly overhead. 

The nurses, too, looked jaded and worn : and no 
wonder ; for, with a dismal contagion, the torpor and 
weariness in the faces about will communicate itself 
to the attendants and visitors, and the most cheerful 
countenance can hardly help becoming forlorn. Our 
chaplain and colonel (both good, energetic, and use- 
ful men) make it part of their daily duty to go to 
every couch, and befriend the poor fellows lying 
there; and their visits are the golden hours of the 
day at the hospital, — waited and prayed for. The 
doctor's apartment is large. In one corner are piled 
up the " stretchers," the cots with handles, which are 
meant to carry wounded men off the field. At day- 
break, each day, this room is filled with the proces- 
sion which answers the surgeon's call. 

Now I am a nurse in the hospital ; though in the 
room, my "ward," I have only two patients, and can 
make things more comfortable than in most of the 
rooms. Only two patients : but they both have this 
terrible fever; and I fear (God knows how much!) 
for this young brother. Yet I must veil my appre- 
hension. To-night, a letter must be sent North. 
My heart is sinking ; but I must counterfeit light- 
heartedness, lest they take alarm. 



No. io6] Barbara Frietchie 407 

106. Barbara Frietchie 

John Greenleaf Whittier (1863) 

Up from the meadows rich with corn, An incident 

Clear in the cool September morn, ^"'"^"^ °^- 

^ ' curred in 

Fredericks- 

The cluster'd spires of Frederick stand burg which 

Green-wall'd by the hills of Maryland. thfpolm.by 

the Qualier 

Round about them orchards sweep, poet; the de- 

Apple- and peach-trees fruited deep. changed.^ 

Fair as the garden of the Lord 

To the eyes of the famish'd rebel horde, 

On that pleasant morn of the early fall. 
When Lee march'd over the mountain-wall, — 

Over the mountains winding down, 
Horse and foot, into Frederick town. 

Forty flags with their silver stars. 
Forty flags with their crimson bars, 

Flapp'd in the morning wind : the sun 
Of noon look'd down, and saw not one. 

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, 
Bow'd with her fourscore years and ten ; 

Bravest of all in Frederick town. 

She took up the flag the men haul'd down. 

In her attic window the staff she set, 
To show that one heart was loyal yet. 



4o8 Women and the JVar [no. loe 

Up the street came the rebel tread, 
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. 

Under his slouch'd hat left and right 
He glanced : the old flag met his sight. 

" Halt ! " — the dust-brown ranks stood fast 
" Fire ! " — out blazed the rifle blast. 

It shiver'd the window, pane and sash ; 
It rent the banner with seam and gash. 

Quick, as it fell from the broken staff, 
Dame Barbara snatch'd the silken scarf. 

She lean'd far out on the window-sill, 
And shook it forth with a royal will. 

" Shoot, if you must, this old gray head. 
But spare your country's flag," she said. 

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame 
Over the face of the leader came. 

The nobler nature within him stirr'd 
To life at that woman's deed and word : 

" Who touches a hair of yon gray head 
Dies like a dog ! March on ! " he said. 

All day long through Frederick street 
Sounded the tread of marching feet : 

All day long that free flag tost 
Over the heads of the rebel host. 



No. 107] A Midnight Flight 409 

Ever its torn folds rose and fell 

On the loyal winds that loved it well ; 

And through the hill-gaps sunset light 
Shone over it with a warm good-night. 

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, 

And the rebel rides on his raids no more, 

Honor to her ! and let a tear 

Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. 

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave. 
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave ! 

Peace and order and beauty draw 
Round thy symbol of light and law ; 

And ever the stars above look down 
On thy stars below in Frederick town ! 



107. A Midnight Flight 

By Eliza Ripley (1862) 

The only exact date I can remember, and that I 
can never forget, was the 17th of December. of a^'ianta-"" 

The weather was warm for the season, a thick fog tion on the 
hung over the river, obscuring objects only a few Mississippi 
yards distant. As I stood by the window, in the 
early morning, completing my toilet, the white, misty 
curtain rolled up like a scroll, revealing a fleet of 
gunboats. Far as the eye could reach, up and down 
and around our point, the river was bristling with 



An account 



4 1 o Women and the War lno. 107 

gayly flagged transports, anchored mid-stream, wait- 
ing for the dissipation of the mist to proceed. In a 
twinkhng all was excitement with the hurry and 
bustle of our immediate departure. 

A breakfast eaten "on the fly" as it were, a rush- 
ing here and there, and packing of necessaries for 
our journey, God only knew whither, we did not care 
where, so we escaped a repetition of scenes that had 
made us old before our time, and life a constant ex- 
citement that was burning us up. William was de- 
spatched to the city on a tour of observation. He 
returned, to report ten thousand men and the most 
wariike demonstrations that the darky's genius could 
invent; pickets to be stationed away beyond Arling- 
ton, and all of us to be embraced within the lines and 
made to "toe de mark." "Mars Jim, and every 
white man what harbored a Confederate soldier de 
time of de fight, was to be tuk prisoner." The more 
William told, the more he remembered to tell ; and, 
long before he was through with his recital, I was 
perplexed, bewildered, and almost distracted. 

The negro men were summoned from their quarters 
to help load the wagon. We put in cooking utensils, 
some dishes and plates, bedding and a small mattress, 
a few kegs and boxes of necessary provisions, a trunk 
of clothing, some small bags and bundles — that was 
all. 

The mules safely locked in the stable, the harnesses 
all ready to slip on, extra straps and ropes thrown 
into the wagon — too excited to sleep, we threw our- 
selves on our beds for the last time ; too tired to talk, 
sore at heart ; too worn out to weep. There we lay 
in a fitful and uneasy slumber. In the dead stillness 
of the night there came a low tap at our chamber 



No. 107] A Midfiight Flight 411 

door. " Mars Jim ! " My husband was on his feet 
with a bound. " Your niggers is all gone to de Yan- 
kees ; de pickets is on our place, and dey done told 
your niggers you would be arrested at daylight." 
The speaker was head sugar maker on an adjoining 
plantation, himself a slave. "Call Dominick and tell 
him to get my buggy ready while I put on some 
clothes," was the only response. I lighted the candle 
and hurried my husband off, while he whispered direc- 
tions for me to join him immediately after breakfast 
at the house of a neighbor, five miles back of us, 
which he could speedily reach by going through the 
woods, and to have one of the men drive the wagon, 
and one drive the ambulance through the longer but 
better wagon-road. 

That was all — and he was gone. I did not lie 
down again, but wandered around in an aimless sort 
of way, too distracted to do a useful or sensible thing. 

At the first appearance of dawn I aroused William 
to prepare breakfast, and Charlotte to get the table 
ready. Before the children were awake, I was down 
at the stable, having William and Willy hitch up the 
teams. I saw with half an eye that William was not William 
in sympathy with our plans, and knew intuitively that 
my husband distrusted him. He who had been my 
husband's valet in his gay bachelor days and our con- 
fidential servant, our very aid and help in all my 
bright married life, had had his poor woolly head 
turned by that one trip to town, and asserted his 
independence at the first shadow of provocation. 
WilHam failing me, I knew I must seek other help. 

Being ready and eager to start, I immediately went 
down to the quarters, a half-mile distant ; there I 
waited, going from cabin to cabin, and walked to the 



wanted to be 
free. 



412 Women and the TVar [No. 107 

dwelling-house and back again. Willy stood by the 
hitched-up teams, and Sabe, near by, held the baby 
in her arms, while little Henry clung to her skirts. 
Then back to the quarters. This man " had a misery 
in his back — had had it ever since the crevasse"; 
that man "never druv in his life — didn't I know he 
was de engineer.?" Another man "wouldn't drive 
old Sail — she was de balkiest mule on de place; 
you won't get a mile from here 'fore she takes de 
contraries, and won't budge a step." 

I could have sat down and wept my very heart out. 
It was long past noon ; the harnessed mules had to 
be fed, and William made out to say: "We had 
better take a little snack, and give it up ; if we stayed 
home. Mars Jim would come back; the Yankees 
didn't have nothin' 'gin him." 

At last old Dave said he " warn't no hand wid 
mules, but he 'lowed he could tackle old Sal till she 
balked." There was no time for bargaining for 
another driver now. I caught at Dave's offer before 
he knew it, only stopping long enough to bid all the 
deluded creatures a hasty goodby. 

Dave was hurried by my rapid steps back to the 
stable, and Sabe came out with the tired children. 
Just as I thought we were fairly off, William an- 
nounced, " Sence you was gone a Yankee gunboat 
is cum down, and I see it's anchored 'tween us and 
Kernel Rickey's." A peep around the corner of the 
house confirmed the truth of his statement. Hastily 
grasping a carpet-bag, lying ready packed in the 
ambulance, I ascended to my bedroom, took from it 
two large pockets quilted thick with jewels which I 
secured about my person, while Charlotte put the 
breakfast forks and spoons in the bottom of the bag. 



No. io8] yohufiy Reb's Epistle 413 

When I returned to the teams, everybody was stand- 
ing about, apparently waiting to see what " Miss 
'Lize" would do now. Summoning every effort to 
command a voice whose quaver must have betrayed 
my intense emotion, I directed Willy to mount the 
wagon, a few last baskets and packages were tossed 
into the ambulance, and Henry's little pony tied be- 
hind. I got in, then the little ones and Sabe; Dave 
shambled into his place in front ; the curtain cutting 
off the driver's seat was carefully rolled up, so I 
could have an unobstructed view, and Willy was told 
to lead the way. 

So I rode away from Arlington, leaving the sugar- 
house crowded to its utmost capacity with the entire 
crop of sugar and molasses of the previous year for 
which we had been unable to find a market within 
" our lines," leaving cattle grazing in the fields, sheep 
wandering over the levee, doors and windows flung 
wide open, furniture in the rooms, clothes too fine for 
me to wear now hanging in the armoires, china in 
the closets, pictures on the walls, beds unmade, table 
spread. It was late in the afternoon of that bright, 
clear, bracing day, December i8, 1862, that I bade 
Arlington adieu forever. 



108. The Johnny Reb's Epistle to 
the Ladies 

By W. E. M. (1862) 

Ye Southern maids and ladies fair. 

Of whatsoe'r degree, 
A moment stop — a moment spare — 

And listen unto me. 



414 Women and the Wa?^ [no. ios 

The summer's gone, the frosts have come, 

The winter draweth near. 
And still they march to fife and drum — 

Our armies ! do you hear ? 

Give heed then to the yarn I spin, 

Who says that it is coarse ? 
At your fair feet I lay the sin, 

The thread of my discourse. 




A CONFEDERATE SPY. 



Quarter- 
master's. 



To speak of shoes, it boots not here 
Our Q. M's, wise and good, 

Give cotton calf-skins twice a year 
With soles of cottonwood. 



Shoeless we meet the well-shod foe, 
And bootless him despise ; 

Sockless we watch, with bleeding toe. 
And him sockdologise ! 



No. io8] Johnny ReK s Epistle 415 

Perchance our powder giveth out, 
We fight them, then, with rocks ; 

With hungry craws we craw-fish not, 
But, then, we miss the socks. 



Few are the miseries that we lack, 
And comforts seldom come ; 

What have I in my haversack } 
And what have you at home .-' 

Fair ladies, then, if nothing loth. 
Bring forth your spinning wheels ; 

Knit not your brow — but knit to clothe 
In bliss our blistered heels. 

Do x\Q)\. you take amiss, dear miss, 

The burden of my yarn ; 
Alas ! I know there's many a lass 

That doesn't care a darn. 

But you can aid us if you will, 
And heaven will surely bless. 

And Foote will vote to foot a bill 
For succouring our distress. 

For all the socks the maids have made, 
My thanks, for all the brave ; 

And honoured be your pious trade. 
The soldier's sole to save. 



4 1 6 Wo?nen a?id the Wa?^ [No. 109 



Clara Barton, 
who lived to 
organize re- 
lief for our 
soldiers in 
Cuba in i8q8. 



Second Bull 
Run, July, 
1862. 



109. The Angel of the Battle-field 

By Surgeon James L. Dunn (1862) 

The Sanitary Commission, together with three or 
four noble, self-sacrificing women, have furnished 
everything that could be required. I will tell you of 
one of these women, a Miss Barton, the daughter 
of Judge Barton, of Boston, Mass. I first met her at 
the battle of Cedar Mountain, where she appeared in 
front of the hospital at twelve o'clock at night, with 
a four-mule team loaded with everything needed, 
and at a time when we were entirely out of dressings 
of every kind ; she supplied us with everything ; and 
while the shells were bursting in every direction, took 
her course to the hospital on our right, where she 
found everything wanting again. After doing every- 
thing she could on the field, she returned to Culpep- 
per, where she staid dealing out shirts to the naked 
wounded, and preparing soup, and seeing it prepared, 
in all the hospitals. I thought that night if Heaven 
ever sent out an angel, she must be one, her assist- 
ance was so timely. Well, we began our retreat up 
the Rappahannock. I thought no more of our lady 
friend, only that she had gone back to Washington, 
We arrived on the disastrous field of Bull Run ; and 
while the battle was raging the fiercest on Friday, 
who should drive up in front of our hospital but this 
same woman, with her mules almost dead, having 
made forced marches from Washington to the army. 
She was again a welcome visitor to both the wounded 
and the surgeons. 

The battle was over, our wounded removed on 
Sunday, and we were ordered to Fairfax Station ; we 



No. 109] Angel of the Battle-field 417 

had hardly got there before the battle of Chantilly 
commenced, and soon the wounded began to come 
in. Here we had nothing but our instruments — not 
even a bottle of wine. When the cars whistled up 
to the station, the first person on the platform was 
Miss Barton, to supply us again with bandages, 
brandy, wine, prepared soup, jellies, meal, and every 
article that could be thought of. She staid there 
until the last wounded soldier was placed on the cars, 
and then bade us good-by and left. 

I wrote you at the time how we got to Alexandria 
that night and next morning. Our soldiers had no 
time to rest after reaching Washington, but were 
ordered to Maryland by forced marches. Several 
days of hard marching brought us to Frederick, and 
the battle of South Mountain followed. The next 
day our arri^y stood face to face with the whole force. 
The rattle of one hundred and fifty thousand muskets, 
and the fearful thunder of over two hundred cannon, 
told us that the great battle of Antietam had com- 
menced. I was in a hospital in the afternoon, for it 
was then only that the wounded began to come in. 

We had expended every bandage, torn up every 
sheet in the house, and everything we could find, 
when who should drive up but our old friend Miss 
Barton, with a team loaded down with dressings of 
every kind, and everything we could ask for. She 
distributed her articles to the different hospitals, 
worked all night making soup, all the next day and 
night ; and wheh I left, four days after the battle, 
I left her there ministering to the wounded and 
the dying. When I returned to the field hospital 
last week, she was still at work, supplying them with 
delicacies of every kind, and administering to their 



4 1 8 Women and the War [No. 109 

wants — all of which she does out of her own private 
fortune. Now, what do you think of Miss Barton ? 
In my feeble estimation, General McClellan, with all 
his laurels, sinks into insignificance beside the true 
heroine of the age — the angel of the battle-field. 



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it a valuable book. A great amount of new and valuable information 
is used in a scholarly way to throw light on the great chapters in Ameri- 
can history. It is refreshing reading from the beginning to the end." — 
John A. Callahan, Principal. 

Washington Irving High School, Tarrytown, N.Y. 

" It is concise, methodical, attractive, and durable. It is just the kind 
of a book to put in the hands of pupils." — A. W. Emerson, Principal. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
CHICAGO BOSTON SAN FRANCISCO ATLANTA 



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